


One Year

by SteeleHoltingOn



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, WinterShieldShock - Freeform, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleHoltingOn/pseuds/SteeleHoltingOn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Steve Rogers breaks, a friendship is left in pieces, and a life changing event is in play?  A story in 12 parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by lovesfic

# 

# 1/January

 

Stark shoved a set of keys, a map, and a credit card at him as Steve hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder.  

“Take the Land Rover. It has four wheel drive and will get you up the mountain. I know you don’t like the cold, but the cabin is warm and stocked.  Use my card to get what you need and we’ll settle up later. No one will find you.  I’ve disabled the GPS on your phone, so it’s not worth a damn as a map, but no one can track you either if you choose to use it.”

Tony shoved his hands in his pockets. “Call. Don’t call. But don’t come back until you’re ready. And if that’s never, that’s okay. I won’t judge.”

Steve nodded, grateful for the offer. He took one last look around the apartment he’d shared. He stepped on his own heart as he walked out the door.

 

*****

 

The soldier leaned against the doorway in stunned disbelief and rage--the only sorts of emotions to course through his veins these past two years.

Steve had given in to his demand, offered it up as a gift. Whether through fear or cowardice, he hadn’t complied. The price had been too high.  

He hated Steve.  

 

*****

 

Darcy sat on her bed, her heart breaking for the best friends who couldn’t cross the chasm of hell this time. 

 

 

 


	2. February

# 2/February

 

Darcy breezed through her rounds, delivering coffee and reminders as she checked in on her science-y types. This was her favorite part of her morning, looking in on everyone. Bruce needed his tea, a banana, and a few minutes of quiet assurances. He’d had a rough night and looked it. Jane handed her a semi-coherent report to read over. Darcy took it only after she herded Jane out of the lab and off to bed with a reminder Thor was due in later that day.

She always ended up in Tony’s lab. She liked his music and he liked her company.

Without a word, sometime last summer, he’d cleared space for her to work in front of one of the windows. She’d discovered a pretty glass table with her favorite mug, a plant she couldn’t kill, and brand new laptop with all of her favorites loaded on it. She’d taken the hint.  

Pepper still couldn’t figure out how the two of them co-existed, but Tony’s temper tantrums never bothered Darcy, and she made sure he stayed watered and fed. In a rare moment of truth and sleep-deprivation, he admitted that coming face to face with PTSD had severely compromised his ability to be alone for long.

When Pepper figured out that Tony had made a quirky, off-beat friend who didn’t take his shit seriously, liked him enough to bully him into self-care, and didn’t have any designs on him, she’d breathed a sigh of relief. Darcy made her life a thousand times easier and they’d struck up friendship that had only grown closer with time.

Plus, Darcy was smart. Really smart. Exposure to Jane gave her a leg up in understanding Tony. And Darcy wasn’t afraid of doing research so that she could hold her own in conversation--or look over the reports they seemed to trust her with. When Sam Wilson commented (more than once), that he was just like Steve Rogers, only slower, Darcy grinned happily. She got it. She really did.

She loved working in the Tower. In spite of the prickly personalities residing here, she navigated them easily and called all of them friends.

She missed Steve though, something awful, especially after this weekend. But he needed this time to be alone and away from Bucky. Too many harsh words had been said between them, and Steve was close--far too close--to shutting down entirely.

Darcy had witnessed their struggles, doing her best to help Steve wherever she could. Special treats, back rubs, movie nights, a friendly ear--but her arsenal couldn’t compete with a brainwashed assassin and his temper.

He’d been gone a full month now after Tony confronted him about a perilous move during a battle. Steve had thrown himself off a building--no shield, no protection--at a height that might have killed him had Tony not intercepted. She still wasn’t sure it wasn’t a suicidal move, neither was Tony. And after the confrontation between Bucky and Steve afterward in front of the entire team, nobody else was either. Steve had left the Tower the following morning.

Bucky had holed up for almost a week before Darcy coaxed him into letting her inside.

In any case, Steve was off in the snowy hills of Maine without a soul for company. He wasn’t speaking to anyone, though he’d held to his promise of sending her at least a single text each day. All she asked for was a number, 1-10.

The first two weeks had been a solid string of 1’s, and it was everything she could do to not get in the car and go to him. The third week had been a mixed bag of 1’s and 2’s.

Yesterday had ranked about a three for her, but she’d bounced back. Lots worse could happen and she was in the safest place on the planet with people who actually gave a damn about her.

She bebopped into the lab carrying coffee for Tony, a stack of reports from Pepper that he would ignore for a full week and, hey--lookie there--Bucky was in the lab working out a problem on his arm with a set of tools Tony had made just for him.

Darcy was ninety-nine percent certain she would never quite get used to the gorgeousness of Bucky Barnes. She certainly hadn’t with Steve. (And now that she’d seen Steve in the buff, yeah--not happening.) Thank goodness, Bucky didn’t mind her flirting, or the whistle of appreciation at his bare chest. A faint smirk appeared and she called it a win.

She’d seen the exhibit at the Smithsonian before it closed last year, the way Bucky’s whole face used to light up at Steve. But after two years of rehabilitation and Steve’s pure stubbornness, Bucky was only now finding it possible to express any emotion other than anger or sullen acceptance. The arguments between the two men in the past few months had been legendary.

Steve’s absence had forced Bucky into dealing with his own issues alone. He struggled--daily--and Darcy took to checking in on him as often as she could.  

“Missed you last night, doll.” His voice, soft, husky, and still ever-hesitant, washed through her.

“Yeah, well, rough kind of day. But I’m on my game now.” She patted him on the shoulder, making sure he saw her reach out. If he’d flinched, she would have stopped. But he only kept his eyes on her face as she did.

He squinted, swept his eyes over her, and did that wrinkle between the brows frown that meant he was trying to remember something. Reaching out, he tipped her chin up. “You expecting?”

She stomped her foot at Bucky as Tony gaped her. “How the heck do you know?! I just figured it out a couple of days ago.”

He looked away. “Had three younger sisters. Ma looked like you. Happy. Nervous.” He raised an eyebrow. “Queasy.”

Darcy shrugged. “Accurate.”

Tony dropped his screwdriver. “I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

She pursed her lips. “I’m not. Kind of a one-off thing, Tony. You’d know about that.” Yup, Tony blushed a little. She snickered.

Bucky asked softly, “Are you going to tell him? The father?”

Darcy pulled a stool out, waving Bucky away when he tried to beat her to it. “Considering he’s off the grid and losing his mind, no, at the moment, I’m not. Doesn’t mean I won’t.”

Both men surveyed her as they figured out what she meant. Bucky’s mouth firmed into a hard line.

Tony cocked his head. “You’re saying the star-spangled man knocked you up?”

“Yes. Apparently, super soldier sperm took a look at the pills I was taking, waved happily as they went by and decided to do their own thing.” She crossed her arms. “Both of you can wipe that judge-y look off your faces. Steve was--is--in a bad place. It was mutually consenting and he didn’t leave without telling me approximately where he was going and why. We’re friends. Good friends. Don’t judge what you don’t know.”

“You’re not going to tell him.” Bucky seemed confused.

But Darcy had thought long and hard about this yesterday and, when it came down to it, trusted her gut. “Not yet. Steve’s spent his whole life either being sick or giving everything he has to someone or something else. The last thing he needs is an obligation. Right now, he’s got to get better or we’re going to lose him for good.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t think I need to explain to you what I mean by that.”

Bucky looked away, though not before Darcy saw shame and anger warring with each other in his face. It wasn’t easy reading his emotions, but she was getting better at it.

“When will you tell him?” Tony asked.

“Not anytime soon.”

“You okay with this?”

Darcy smiled. “Yes. I wasn’t planning on having kids, but hey-- I have this awesome job, awesome friends and a great place to live. So no matter what happens, this kid’s gonna be in a good place.”

Never mind the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that Steve might not come back. But that wasn’t up to her.

 

*****

 

A pretty, A-line log cabin of the finest craftsmanship was tucked in the woods of Maine, high enough on a hill to avoid the worst of the snow drifts, low enough to be hidden against the winds, and overlooking a frozen-over lake that Steve wondered once again if he could just slip under the ice and find a place where the pain would finally stop.

But he didn’t see any of it, not really. He opened a can of soup, drank it straight without bothering to warm it up or water it down. He wanted the hunger pangs to go away so he could go back to bed.

Somehow, he had to figure out how to fall out of love with Bucky. It was either that or the ice, because he couldn’t keep living in the hell he was in now.

He crawled under the covers, taking his phone with him and sending a single text. “1.”

He begged the powers above to let him sleep without dreaming this time. He closed his eyes and saw laughing blue eyes and pure hatred in the same grey ones. He cried in his sleep, and there was no one to hear.

 

*****

 

A hundred different emotions coursed through him as he pushed his body in the training facility. He’d been angry with his best friend for so long that the change startled him, and for the first time, wondered if Steve might have been right to go.

He’d been angry about that too.

Steve was supposed to be the noble one, the one who couldn’t do anything wrong, the one who would be the sturdy seawall against the raging storm.

Bucky hadn’t seen the cracks until it was too late. As their arguments escalated, his psychiatrist had cautioned him about pushing their friendship too hard. He’d been blind until the moment that Steve offered to do what Bucky had been begging of him, raging at him, since he’d been freed from HYDRA.

He hated himself.

He finished the punishing drills, showered and went to the apartment he’d shared with Steve to eat.

Steve had left everything, taking only clothes, his sketchbook and his Glock. He’d left his shield on Bucky’s bed. He hated Steve for that. For leaving him with scattered memories and a responsibility he didn’t want.

He’d expected the Avengers to kick him out of Tower. They hadn’t. Darcy had clucked over him like a mama hen, making sure he ate and slept. She’d taken to checking on him after his therapy sessions and spending the evenings and weekends in his company.

They didn’t do anything much different than what Steve tried to get him to do -- reading, TV, cooking, walking around the city, sometimes going out to dinner or a bar. But she was a calming presence with no ties to his past. Around her, he found he could talk. She never judged and flirted as if he was a real man.

He’d never had a dame for a friend and had started to wonder what it’d be like to kiss her.

She was carrying Steve’s baby.

He hated Steve for that too.

 

 

Two days later, Darcy kicked the door twice with her shoe until Bucky opened it. He reluctantly let her in. He hadn’t spoken to her since that day in Tony’s lab.

“Are we friends?” she asked as she set the popcorn and a veggie tray on the coffee table.

He waited a long beat then nodded.

“Good.” She stepped into his space and burst into tears, not holding on to him, but tipping her head so that it barely grazed his chest. She curled her arms around herself until he carefully laid a hand on her shoulder.

When that didn’t stop her tears, he sat on the sofa and pulled her into his lap. She turned over, buried her face in his neck and rained on it for a while.

Only Darcy had dared touch him since Steve left. Steve with his small shoulder bumps. The occasional hand on his back. Holding him so the nightmares wouldn’t take over. Sleeping within arm’s reach so that Bucky wouldn’t be alone.

He hated sleeping alone. Hated Steve for leaving him alone.

He touched her now. Sliding hands over soft hair. Holding shaking shoulders. Feeling the burn of her tears on his skin.

“Scared?” he growled out.

“Terrified. It’s---everything’s wrong with me. I’m crying at the drop of a hat, my boobs hurt, I’m so tired I’m dizzy--I can’t do this, Bucky. I can’t even think straight right now ‘cause I’m all over the place. I want to call Steve to tell him all this and if I do I’m going to break him but I don’t know what to do and I’m--”

“Hush, doll, I’ve got you. Just hold on to me for a bit.”

_(It’s okay, Bucky, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me. You’re my best friend.)_

She snuffled a little more and fell asleep mid-sniff with a sigh.

_(I don’t care if you cry or scream or laugh. I’m here, Bucky. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.)_

He didn’t hate Steve right now and didn’t know what that meant.

 

*****

_Dear Steve,_

_It looks like we’re going to have a baby.  I’ve suspected it for a few days, but took the test yesterday, and wow, okay, that’s a shock._

_I want to tell you.  I want to pick up the phone and call you, or text you, or come see you to tell you in person.  But I see all the 1’s and 2’s you’re sending me and I know you aren’t ready for anything else.  I don’t want this child to be another burden to you, another responsibility you aren’t ready for, not when you’re in a place where you’re barely holding together._

_So I’m going to wait to tell you, knowing that when I do, you’ll be angry with me.  Good thing I’ll be your kid’s mom, so you’ll have to get over that eventually and still talk to me._

_I figure if I keep a journal, at least I can write down all the important stuff as we go.  I’ll be as honest as I can, I owe you that._

_And in that light? I’m scared shitless._

_Darcy_

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Trying to stay spoiler-free until the end of this chapter ... 
> 
> Now that you know Darcy's is pregnant, please be aware that there are a wide variety of cultural and personal differences as to what each reader may consider "acceptable" behavior during pregnancy and in child-rearing. It is impossible to write this kind of story without running into that. If I offend you, I apologize in advance, but in no way am I intending any sort of negative consequences for Darcy or the child. She absolutely has her child's best interests in mind. No babies will be hurt in this story. Just ... no. Not going to happen on my watch.
> 
> (Obviously, I've already stepped on some toes and feel awful about it. It wasn't intentional, so I figured I'd post a caution here for new readers who are sensitive to these issues.)


	3. March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N The "links" in the journal entries don't work. It's just a literary tool for the story. 
> 
> Also, take a look at the fabulous cover lovesfic did for this. I've posted it on the first chapter, too.. 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3218171  
> https://40.media.tumblr.com/0ca013ca22fb9f931340d7cf66b0e7c1/tumblr_nimembl8w51rfr5vso1_540.png

# 3/March

 

“3”

Steve took a picture with his cell phone from the back porch and sent it to Darcy. He’d cautiously asked (texted) about the rest of the team yesterday, and she’d simply replied, “They are fine. More concerned about you.”

He’d reached a state of numbed exhaustion that he finally, finally attributed to not eating properly. (Stupid punk. Can’t survive on soup and cereal with this metabolism.) He’d ordered fresh bread, eggs and fruit from the nearby grocery store and raided the freezer for vegetables and meat.

He had a chicken in the crock pot for later and a stack of sandwiches for lunch.

A week of feeding himself gave him enough energy to explore his surroundings, though the snow and ice drove him back inside much sooner than he liked. He still didn’t like the cold.

Today was different. The ever present snow didn't bother him for once. He's slept some, though he always dreamed of Bucky. He wondered how he'd mucked up everything when all he'd wanted to do was bring Bucky home and make him better. But everything he'd tried had failed.

He shook his head in an attempt to put those thoughts away. The sketchbook had been in his bag for eight full weeks. He dragged it out and tried to draw the chipmunk sitting on the porch post. It wasn’t very good.

He studiously ignored the urge to draw Bucky’s face. He drew Darcy’s instead.

_(“Steve? It’s me, Darcy. I know you’re in there. Let me in.”_

_He cracked open the door. “Darcy, I’m not very good company right now.”_

_“I know, dumb bunny. You need a friend. Don’t worry, Nat and Clint have Bucky. You’ve got the place to yourself tonight.”_

_Maybe he did need a friend. He let her in, and she went straight into his arms to hug him. But he was numb all over. Numb with pain. Numb with shock. Numb with grief._

_Darcy coaxed him to the couch, taking note of his duffel bag on the floor. “Where are you going?”_

_“I don’t know. Just--away from here.”_

_“You know, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”_

_“You don’t?”_

_“No. You’ve given him everything you’ve got. There’s nothing left, Steve.” She cupped his face. “It’s time you took something back.”_

_By pure instinct, he turned to press his lips on the palm of her hand. And saw the flare of desire as she licked her lips. He leaned in, capturing her mouth, breathing in her flavor. And wanted._

_She gave. He took. She didn’t leave his bed that night. When he woke the next morning, she gave to him all over again. And when they finished, she reached for her clothes. “Thank you. Best sex I’ve had and it’s because we’re friends. No regrets, Steve. Now go. Just, send me a text. A number, one through ten, each day. Let me know how you’re doing.”)_

He’d promised and didn’t regret that either. Knowing that she waited on that text each day, well, sometimes that was the only thing keeping him out of the ice.

 

*****

 

Darcy sat on the bathroom floor. She didn’t want to call Bucky yet again. She was trying so hard not to treat him like a Steve-substitute. And yet, Bucky was her friend too. The lines were fuzzy, that was for sure.

But she’d gotten her first “3” and a picture of snowy woodlands this morning. She’d been so happy that she’d binged on breakfast and now every bit of it had come back up to leave her trembling and exhausted.

With a little stubborn determination, she made it off the floor by herself. That little victory didn’t change the fact she had an appointment with the obstetrician today and didn’t want to go alone. While she debated whether or not to call Jane, and the chances of prying the scientist out of her lab in time to accompany her, Bucky showed up at her door with car keys borrowed from Tony.

“You don’t have to go,” she told him.

“You want to do this by yourself?” he grouched.

Darcy covered a grin. She’d figured out that Grouchy Bucky meant that he really wanted to do this and didn’t know how to ask. She shook her head instead.

“Didn’t think so.” He settled a kiss on her temple and helped her with her coat.

“Don’t be a jerk,” she admonished.

He tugged her belt to bring her close so that he could hug her. That was new. Though he’d grown used to her affections and sitting close on the couch, he rarely initiated contact.

Not only did he go with her to the doctor’s office, he stayed for the sonogram and held Darcy’s hand throughout. He memorized all the doctor’s instructions. He took her to lunch. She found out that he’d ordered a dozen baby books off the internet and had lengthy conversations with Stark about baby products and new security measures for the Tower.

He checked in with her morning, noon and night.

A week later, she confronted him about that. “Bucky, you don’t have to do this. I know you’re mad at Steve and you don’t have to try to make it up to him by taking care of me.”

He slanted an icy look at her. “You’re my friend, Darcy. Friends take care of each other.”

Incredulous, she grabbed the throw pillow off the couch and hit him with it. (In retrospect, probably not a great idea, but she was still breathing, so that counted as a win.) “How dare you say that to me? Steve did nothing but take care of you for two solid years. You sure as hell didn’t like it then.”

“He was too perfect. Never fucked up. Ever,” he complained. “I’m a fucked up mess.”

“Then you must not have been paying attention, because the only thing that kept Steve from checking out back then was you showing up. Finding out that the people he’d worked for--that he’d been on the wrong side of things--shattered him. You were the only one who had a chance of keeping him on this side of the grave.” She shook her head at him. “He needed you to get better so he could fall apart. You were the one person he trusted.”

Bucky spat out, “He trusted you enough to sleep with you.”

“He trusted you to love him.”

Bucky looked away.

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Steve loves you. Steve is _in love_ with you and has been since you were kids.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’re living proof that Steve isn’t a fairy.”

“You’re living proof that he goes both ways,” she shot back.

He gaped at her for a bit, and then stormed out of her apartment.

 

*****

 

He hated Steve.

He’d always known how Steve felt about him. No one else was supposed to know. No one could know that he felt the same for Steve.

He’d pretended to be drunk both times. Drunk enough to pretend not to remember. But he did. Every slide of Steve’s long fingers. The drag of his stubbled cheek with those enormous blue eyes and long lashes Bucky could drown in.

There was heat and slick and sweat between them, a cry of love. They did it again, the other way, a bit later. Then morning came. His ass and his cock ached for different reasons. He wanted to touch Steve's lips. He acted as if nothing had happened between them.

The second time, more than four years after, he’d done it again in the forest of trees behind the camp. Dragged Steve to the woods and kissed him soundly. Promises tripping off his lips until they were lying sweaty and exhausted in the moonlight.

He died the next day.

Not once, in two years, had he let on that he remembered.

He wasn’t a fairy. Couldn’t be a fairy. Had slept with enough dames to prove it. Liked it, too.

 

*****

_Dear Steve,_

_I messed up today._

_You told me how he took care of you when you were sick. Holy shitballs, you weren’t kidding. He’s quietly hovering over every breath I take._

_In any case, that’s not what’s messed up. We fought. I told him you were in love with him. What the fuck was I thinking? He’s not happy with me right now. Just like you’re not happy with me right now._

_In any case, click here to see the sonogram. Everything is healthy so far and if you can make anything out other than a bean, kudos to you._

_Darcy_


	4. April

# 4/April

 

“No. You’re not going,” Bucky insisted. Trembling rage coursed under his skin, though he suppressed it with iron will.

_(Bucky, you have to go. I promise I’ll stay with you the whole time. I’ll be right beside you.)_

Darcy tilted her head. “Really? In what realm are we living in that you get to decide what I do? If Thor says it’s safe, since he’s a thousand years older than you, I’ll believe _him_.”

He clamped a hand on the doorframe and tried not to crush it out of frustration. “You can’t go.”

_(Look, either of our beds is big enough now. I’ll be way over here and you won’t be alone.)_

With patience he didn’t understand, she asked, “What’s this really about, Bucky?”

He shook his head, unable to answer.

“Okay, I’ll prompt, you pick,” she insisted. “One, you don’t want to be by yourself. Two, you’re worried about the baby on this trip because you’ve never been there and don’t know what to expect. Either answer means you’re more scared than mad. So which is it?”

Assets didn’t have fear. But he wasn’t an asset. This is what scared felt like? This clutching feeling in his chest?  “Both.”

“Think about why the first one bothers you so much and talk to Thor about the second. When you’ve done that, come find me tonight. I’m making pesto chicken and apple pie.” Darcy kissed him on the cheek. The trembling stopped.

She wasn’t mad at him. Determined, maybe, but not mad.

_(Talk to me, Bucky. I promise I won't get mad. But I can't help if I don't know why you're angry.)_

He found Thor in Jane’s lab.

 

*****

 

Darcy sprinkled the last bit of cinnamon over the woven pie crust and set it in the oven.

She felt for Bucky, but the trip was only for the weekend. Thor wanted Jane to attend an event with him on Asgard. He would have certain duties and asked if Darcy would like to keep Jane company. Of course, Darcy wanted to go. (Travel the universe? Duh.) Thor assured her that travelling the BiFrost would not endanger her in the slightest. She’d been floating three feet off the floor when Bucky threw his little temper tantrum. 

They weren’t a new thing.

Early on, Steve could draw Bucky out and help him work through his emotions. But as time passed and Bucky grew frustrated with his own lack of progress, he’d act out.  He could be vicious with his words and knew just where to hurt Steve the most.

There wasn’t any doubt he’d been testing Steve to see he far he could push him—looking for the breaking point where Steve wouldn’t love him anymore.  The spectacular fireworks as that backfired were still exploding four months later, and the soldier had answers he hadn’t thought possible.

Darcy had a certain amount of leverage at the moment and wasn’t afraid to use it to help Bucky heal. 

He was making progress.  Thor had checked in on Darcy an hour ago and told her about the interrogation he’d received regarding the trip.  Which meant that Bucky had done what she’d asked—researching instead of blindly reacting.  That was a huge step. 

A quick peek at the chicken told her it needed another fifteen minutes.  Her stomach grumbled. 

She didn’t hear Bucky come in and jumped when he touched her on the elbow. An admonishment died on her lips when she read the apology on his face.

“I’m sorry, doll. I know better than to stop you from doing something you want to do.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it.”

He sagged against the counter. “Easier to be mad.”

“Yeah, but that makes people not like you. This way, you get chicken and apple pie.” She kept her voice light, even teasing. 

With his arms crossed, hair hanging in his face and hardly loud enough for her to hear, Bucky replied, “Steve never got mad at me.”

“Only to your face.” She handed him napkins and flatware for the table.

Bucky frowned, coming up to give her a curious look. “He talked to you?”

“Sometimes.” Darcy brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Steve needed a friend who didn’t need him for anything. I like his company. Just like I like yours.”

"Why?”

"Maybe I like mouthy nonagenarians," she sassed.

Startled, he offered, "I like you."

That earned him a real smile and a couple of plates. "Good. So what are you going to do while I'm on Asgard? Sitting around the apartment is not an option."

As Bucky set the table for the two of them, he said in a halting voice, "Stark wants me to work with him. Something about a new biofeedback sensor."

Darcy wedged herself under his arm to give him a hug. "Now that's a plan. Just don't let him talk you into drinking. His tolerance is impressive, but he can't compete with serum and he'll try."

"Noted."  He pressed his cheek to her head and held her until the oven announced the chicken was done.

 

*****

 

Steve ordered canvas, gesso and oil paints. While he waited for them to arrive, he hunted up a lumber yard for framing wood and purchased a table saw too. It took him full three days to clear a space in the garage, set it up, and practice enough to feel confident. He needed two more days to stretch canvas across the newly built frames and prep them. When he was done, he had a dozen good canvases to work on.

He started with the chipmunk.

As he painted, just like when he sketched, he found his mind flitting from subject to subject. He relived old memories and new ones. Decided where he'd gone wrong. Confirmed where he’d felt right.

He missed Bucky. Ached for him the way he had when he’d woken up in this century. Missed Darcy, too, and that surprised him. Thought about both of them in _that_ way and blushed as he did.

When he finished the painting, he texted Darcy a "4" and went to bed to cry about all the things he'd never been able do with Bucky. Because the man he'd known was gone, and the Bucky he knew hated him.

He texted a "2" the next morning and went out to chop firewood. He built a fire, sat in front of it and stared for an hour. Took a picture of it and sent it to Darcy.

_“Is that an allegory for hell or are you enjoying the warmth and comfort of a nice fire?”_

The question startled a laugh out of him. He spent the rest of the long day debating the answer.

 

  
*****

_Dear Steve,_

_Nothing fits. Baby is healthy. I’m healthy. Still got nauseated after breakfast. I’m ready for that to be done. I’m terrified that my boobs will get bigger than they are now. I’m told they will. Sucks._

_I’m dreaming about the baby now instead of having sex dreams. Less fun, I’m telling you. Still scared shitless._

_Darcy_

 

 

 

 


	5. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Bonus chapter because I'm in a great mood today.

# 5/May

 

Bucky liked the way Darcy sat against him as they watched a movie. His skin tingled wherever they touched. She didn’t mind his metal arm, and he liked the way every emotion flickered across her face. She wasn’t silly, but liked silly things just so she could laugh.

He liked her.

_(You’re my best friend. I’m with you to the end of the line.)_

She wiggled to get comfortable, then, “Oh.” She stilled and reached for his right hand to place it on her rounding belly. “Do you feel that?”

 _Feel what? No._ He was uncomfortable with the intimacy. Steve’s girl. Then, he felt a shift and movement under his hand.

_(Not a chance a dame will want kids with me, Buck. I’ll just have to spoil yours. They’ll be pretty little brats and it’ll be perfect.)_

Darcy seemed scared and delighted all at once. “Bucky,” she breathed. “I felt that. Tell me you did too.”

He nodded. He didn’t mean to caress her stomach, but it felt natural, and she hummed in contentment.

“Why do you have to be carrying Steve’s baby?” he blurted. _(Don’t be a jerk.)_

The smile on her face fell away. She eased off the sofa and headed for the kitchen.

He ducked around her, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean it that way. I promise,” he begged.

Hands on hips, she pressed her red, red mouth in a hard line. “Explain. ‘Cause you did a pretty good job of making me feel like shit right there.”

_(Damn it, Bucky, if you wanted me to leave you alone, just say it. You don’t have to be a jerk about it.)_

“I like you, doll. Like being with you. You’re beautiful carryin’ and all that. Jealous, I guess. Steve and I talked about it some, long time back. Always thought the kids would be mine. He never figured on having any ‘cause of his health.”

Darcy’s shoulders drooped. “You two are a tangled mess. How did I think I could just be friends with either one of you, much less both of you?”

Something in him violently recoiled. “We’re not friends?”

Slowly enough that he could evade if he wanted, she went to her toes and pressed her lips to his. Heat flashed between them, and he cupped the back of her head. Maybe he remembered how to do this part. Maybe he didn’t. None of that mattered when he discovered that the curling feeling in his gut.

He jerked backward, touching his lips with his fingers, eyes dropping to her waist. He bolted for his apartment.

_(I know you, Bucky.  You’re my best friend.)_

He dreamed of Steve that night, of skinny waists and broad shoulders. He woke with a hard prick for the first time in seven decades. He reached down, curved his thumb around it. Thought about Steve. Thought about Darcy. Made a mess of his shorts and muttered all the way to the shower.

 

*****

 

Steve sent Darcy a long text this time. “5. Wondering if that’s as good as it gets out here. Weather’s better.”

_“Are you bored?”_

“Sometimes. Not really. Plenty to keep me occupied. I like the walks in the forest. I miss company though. Miss you.”

_“Only because I’m the one talking to you.”_

“That’s plenty for now. Not sure I can handle more. How are you?”

_“Busy, as always. Working on a big project but can’t tell you about it yet. Needs a few months to percolate.”_

“Now I’m curious.”

_“Incentive to stay in touch.”_

“There is that. Darcy, I want to ask so many questions. Don’t know if I should.”

_“If it doesn’t involve you getting to a better place, don’t ask. And don’t ask about Bucky. If he’s doing better, you’ll feel guilty because you’ll think you should have left sooner. If he’s doing worse, you’ll feel guilty for leaving. So … let us handle Bucky. You get better. I miss you too.”_

Steve drummed his fingers on the table, doing his best to read between the lines.  But he decided all he could get from that was that Bucky had stayed in the Tower.  “How did you get to be so smart?”

_“Genetics and my Nana could think circles around me. Send me more pictures. Maine is pretty.”_

He took a photo of his latest painting and sent it to her.

_“Holy shit, Rogers. You’ve got talent.”_

 

*****

 

Darcy laid her cell phone on her kitchen table, wondering what the fuck she thought she was doing. She abruptly shoved her chair back and headed for Stark’s lab, hoping he might still be there so she could nag him or something.

But Pepper answered the door, and Darcy blushed for interrupting. “Sorry. It can wait.”

Pepper pulled her inside with a knowing look. “You don’t need Tony. You need chocolate and a very small glass of wine.”

“Done.” She settled on the sofa where she was directed.

Pepper set a box of chocolates between them and passed over a glass with just enough wine to make the chocolates taste even better.  “So, how hard have you fallen for both of them?”

Darcy winced. “Am I that obvious?”

Turning a hand up, Pepper nodded, “You do spend all your time with Bucky. And nobody thinks you would have gone to bed with Steve if you didn’t like him.”

“I didn’t see it coming with Bucky at all. Just, wham, and there it was.” She curved her fingers along her belly. “I see why Steve loves him so much. That old Bucky is there, even if it is really well-hidden sometimes. It must have frustrated the hell out of Steve to see it and have it just be out of reach.”

“How are they?”

“Still orbiting each other and they don’t even realize it. Steve has his days. He’s not ready to come back. Not at all, but we’re texting a lot. Several times a day, in fact. Bucky is … so in love with Steve he can’t see it. I think I’m in the middle of that because of the baby.” She sipped her wine and set it on the table. “I kissed him when he told me he liked me. Holy fuck, that boy has skills. He freaked out and left.”

Darcy put her head on the sofa cushion. Pepper lightly patted her hair. “You know, this might not be a bad thing. You and Steve are going to have to be friends, if nothing else. It’s going to be easier if you and Bucky are friends too.”

“I know it’s more than friends with Steve. I can see it in our texts. And you can check the ‘sex’ box for compatibility.”

Pepper laughed at that. “What about Steve and Bucky?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “There’s the hang up. Bucky still won’t admit he has feelings for Steve that way.” She squinted at Pepper. “This is going some kind of weird, strange place. Do these things happen?”

“I glow in the dark on occasion. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

“Fair enough.”

Darcy stayed for the night. Nothing was resolved but she felt better for laying it all out on the table. Pepper didn’t judge and shared her high-quality chocolate. That was a double win.

The next morning, she rounded the corner to her apartment and found Bucky leaning on her door with his hands jammed in his pockets. They came out to frame her face. He kissed her, for real this time, making her whole body sing.

His voice flowed like the wine she’d sipped, smooth and dark. “I like you. And I’m glad you’re carrying Steve’s kid because he’s going to be over the moon when he sees the tyke.”

Darcy bawled for a solid quarter hour, making a mess of Bucky’s shirt and the handkerchief he always carried.

 

*****

_Dear Steve,_

_We felt the baby move. I mean, I’ve been feeling little flutters like I’ve told you. But we were watching TV and the baby moved. Even Bucky could feel it._

_Aw shit, yeah, I guess I should tell you that your boy is freakin’ fascinated by your kid. You’ve probably figured out that by now._

_I see why you love him._

_Today? I really miss you. You’re texting me now and that makes it easier. Makes me think I’ve made the right decision._

_I want you to get better. I need you to be better so you can be a great dad._

_Darcy_


	6. June

# 6/June

 

Bucky pulled at his lip as he paced Banner’s lab. Bruce waved him to a nearby chair. “Sit. You’re making me nervous.”

He sat.

“How’s the shoulder? Thought you pulled it pretty good in our last little skirmish.”

“It’s fine. Healed. Still not used to carrying the shield.”

“Hmm. Okay, what’s bothering you? You know I’m not a psych doc,” he warned. “Stark keeps forgetting.”

“No. I don’t need that. I, um, have you looked at Steve’s medical records. From before the serum?”

“Sure.”

Bucky worked his mouth, trying to make words come out. “He--he didn’t want to pass his genes on to a kid. He’d be scared sick right now worryin’ about Darcy’s baby. Figure I got to do that for him.”

Bruce took off his glasses and chewed on the end of the earpiece for a minute. “Did Steve’s mother ever say anything about his early childhood or how she carried him?”

He scrunched his face, hating every second of this. Hated Steve for making him dig this far into his memories. “Steve’s da died in the war. She got the news and went into labor a few weeks early. Mrs. Rogers said it was a miracle Steve lived, that when he was born, he was small enough to fit in a shoe box. You think that had something to do with it?”

Banner waggled his head back and forth. “Maybe. Could account for the lung and heart problems. The scoliosis is something we’ll keep an eye on. Lot of times it’s a leg that’s short and we can fix that with a lift in a shoe when kids are young. Color-blindness is something we’ll have to be aware of, though there’s not much we can do for that. Even if the baby has asthma, it’s not the disaster it was it your day. If the baby is deaf, well, you know Clint, so we can handle it. That’s something we’re pretty good at these days with implants. So, my answer to you is ... stop worrying.”

Bucky sagged in the chair. “All right. I … every damned winter was hell. Almost lost him so many times. That last one before I enlisted--” he trailed off, not wanting to remember.

_(Don’t die on me, punk._

_Can’t. If I did, I’d leave all the stupid with you.)_

Banner gave him a curious look. “I thought you couldn’t stand Steve. Can’t imagine you giving a shit about him. Or his kid.”

“I don’t hate Steve.”

“What would you call it?”

“Being stupid.”

 

*****

 

“5”

The long walk in the woods gave him something to do. He remembered France, but this was better without the ravages of war. Birds chirped as they accompanied him on his journey. He ate lunch by the pond on his way back, throwing bits of food at the ducks and fish.

He’d never fished and wondered if it would be any fun.

The neighbor’s grey cat from a half mile away came by to investigate, but turned up her nose at the bit of ham he offered. He supposed a mouse would take precedent.

He spent most of the afternoon texting bad jokes to Darcy. She flirted back. Or maybe she was just being nice.

Damn. He didn’t know. Only person he’d ever been good with was Bucky and he wasn’t even good at that anymore. He wished Darcy were here. Though the sex was nice—excellent, he corrected--he missed her company. He wondered if she missed his.

Because it was Darcy, because they were friends, he asked. Because he liked her.

_Of course, I miss you. Don’t be silly._

He hesitated before sending the next text. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for it but-- “Want to come up for a visit?”

_Oh Steve, I do. But not yet, okay? I was serious about that big project. I need a while longer. Maybe after Thanksgiving._

He breathed a sigh of relief that told him more about his own state of mind that anything else that day.

 

*****

 

Darcy texted Steve and sat with her hands on her head. How could she be doing this? Falling in love with one man via two years of friendship, one sexy night, and six months of texts-- and, whoops, she was carrying his baby too and hadn’t told him yet.

But they were solid. Solid enough that Darcy knew, with certainty, that when she introduced him to his baby, he would take up the yoke of parenting without hesitation. And no matter what happened between them, they would always be friends.

She missed his wit, his manners, and the way his eyes trailed over her. She missed the discussions and debates they would have as they watched movies—which always took twice as long because they had to stop and rewatch scenes they’d missed while talking. They had learned a lot from each other. She missed giving him backrubs and feeling the tension flow away under her fingers. She missed his hugs and the way he made her feel beautiful, even when she had her hair in pigtails and wore sweats.

Then, she’d fallen head over heels for Bucky. Bucky with his gentle hands, the way he clucked over her and the baby. How he listened to her hopes and fears with an open mind. The way he quietly encouraged her and complimented her abilities. In his hands, she felt like she could do anything.

What a freakin’ mess.

 

*****

 

_Dear Steve,_

_You asked me to come up there. I want to because I miss you. But you aren’t ready._

_I can’t tell you what it means to get your texts during the day now. I feel like you are right around the corner when I get them._

_Bruce tells me that Bucky was in his lab today, going through the whole list of things that affected you before the serum. That’s a fucked up list, by the way. But so far, fingers crossed, the baby is healthy and isn’t showing any signs of problems. Bucky says that’s the best part about you not knowing … you can’t worry about it. You don’t need anything else to worry about right now._

_I had to buy more clothes and new pair of shoes. I didn’t know that my feet would get bigger, something about ligaments loosening up. There’s a book that tells me all this stuff. I’m certain Bucky has it memorized because I’ll complain about something, and he’ll give me that smirk and say, “It’s about time for it,” or ”Well, that’s normal at this stage.”_

_Bucky’s a little shit when he wants to be._

_Darcy_

 

 

 


	7. July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Slightly NSFW. Slightly. Maybe more than slightly. In any case, enjoy another double-chapter posting. This will be the last one.

# 7/July

 

Darcy had just thirteen weeks to go and Bruce wanted to see her weekly now. Supersoldier serum side effects and that kind of thing. So far, beyond the miraculous conception, the baby wasn’t showing any other signs of being affected by the serum.

Bucky shoved his hand into his pockets after he got her settled onto the table in Banner’s lab.

Bruce wasn’t a medical doctor, but he’d delivered so many babies in India that Darcy had decided he would do for her needs. He could certainly call in back up, knew more than anyone about the serum, plus, she didn’t have to walk all over the city now for these check-ups. Worked for her.

He handed her the gel and asked her rub to it over her belly. (Holy crap, that’s cold.) He would video the sonogram and send it to an obstetrician just to make sure he didn’t miss anything important. Darcy appreciated that he took her on. (And, hey, let’s face it, Bucky would never be comfortable in any kind of medical setting.)

Peering at the monitor, Bruce offered, “Everything looks good. Want to know what you’re having? Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

Bucky’s eyes rounded. “You can tell?”

“Sure, if you know what parts to look for. Or not look for.”

Darcy laughed as Bucky nodded eagerly.  She told Bruce, “Yes, I want to know. I could probably wait, but Bucky might have a conniption now.”

The soft smile Bruce had was for both of them. “You’re having a girl,” Bruce confirmed.

Bucky’s fingers came out of his pocket to cover hers. “Sarah Rebecca,” he muttered as he studied the shifting blob on the monitor.

That was fast. “Who’s Sarah Rebecca?” Darcy asked.

“Steven would want to name her for his ma, Sarah. Rebecca’s m’ oldest sister.” Bucky’s hand trembled. “Darcy?” he pleaded.

A pretty, if old-fashioned, name. She could live with that. “Okay.”

As they walked down to her apartment, fingers laced, Bucky stopped twice just to hug her. The second time, he whispered, “A girl. She’s gonna be perfect.”

“Think Steve’s going to be okay with that?”

“Told ya, he’s gonna be over the moon, doll.” Bucky stroked her cheek with his thumb and pressed a kiss to her lips. 

Darcy hummed a little with happiness. A girl. She’d have blue eyes, for sure. Dark hair, light hair? Didn’t matter.

 

*****

 

Darcy couldn’t get settled on the sofa. She twisted and turned, laying against Bucky the way he liked and then moving away again. After the sixth time she adjusted, Bucky dug a little deeper for patience. Darcy had been on edge since the sonogram. “What is the matter with you, doll?”

She threw up her hands. “You really want to know?”

One eyebrow went up. With that mood, whatever she answered would probably shock him. He braced himself. “Sure.”

“I'm horny as fuck, Bucky. I'm a girl who kind of likes it regular, okay? I hit a dry spell when I moved into the Tower until your boy, Steve, took care of me very nicely about half a freakin’ year ago.”

“He’s not my boy and the books all say it’s normal to feel this way.” But the moment she mentioned sex and Steve, he felt a stirring inside him. More so when she licked her full, pouty lips in frustration.

“ARRRGGGHH. Fuck normal. I can’t use my vibrator because I can’t breathe for long that way. I’m going banana balls.” Her hands went on the pillows on either side of him. “Fuck this.” She leaned in and laid a good one on him.

He moaned first, his hand going into her hair. "Darcy," he murmured. No dame had caused this kind of reaction—need slicing through him with sharp edges.  

"Please don’t tell me to stop.”

Hell, no. Her mouth was something to behold and little shivers were streaking through him. Still-- "You're carrying, doll."

"I'm pregnant, not dead. And damn, you smell good.” She dove in again, nipping her way along his stubbled cheek. His brain hazed over. “I'm not asking you to sleep with me, Bucky, just let me nibble on you for a little while.”

He huffed under his breath, his body already agreeing before he could get the words out. "I guess you can do that.”

"You guess?" Darcy scooted a good foot away from him and flopped against the pillow on the opposite side of the couch. "I'm totally doing this wrong."

Bucky hummed a little more. "No, from where I was sitting, you were doing just fine." He slid a hand along her leg, all the way up to her knee and she damned near came off the couch just from his touch.

At her desperate squeak, he crawled between her legs. She sat up a little, her eyes widening. "I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable doing."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Doll, there's not much I'm not comfortable doing."

"Being told to do it and wanting it--"

"Shut up." He clutched the back of her head and kissed her, slanting teeth and tongue so that she opened her mouth under him. He pulled her toward him again so that she straddled his lap, his cock pressing into her vee. The leggings gave scant protection from the bulge through his denim and she rubbed against it.

His cock jumped. He deepened the kiss, ran his hand into her hair, pressed the other against the curve of her ass, and she ground down enough-- just, just, "Oh fuck, Bucky." She shuddered and came apart all at once, burying her face into his neck as she did.

With a vague memory and what he knew of Darcy, he pulled her to his mouth again. "Want another one?"

"Damn right, I do."

This time, he tilted her backward on the sofa, following her down to slide his hands inside her leggings. He found her soft folds and the hard button. "Hold on."

She soaked his hand with the second and third, and damned near screamed when he worked three fingers into her vagina for a fourth. His mouth was swollen from her teeth and he was sure he had bites all down his neck.

A little dazed and much, much happier, Darcy nudged his fingers out of her pants after that last one. He wiped his fingers on his jeans, only to hold still when she slithered off his lap and onto the floor.

“Let me return the favor, please.” Her hand hovered over his swollen cock, though she didn’t lay a finger on him until he gave her the smallest of nods.

They shoved his pants and briefs down just enough that his dick popped free. Darcy licked her lips, keeping her green-blue eyes on his as she closed her mouth over the tip.

_(“I want you in my mouth, Bucky. I’ve heard about it. Figure it’s gotta feel good.”_

_“You’re not a dame, Steve.”_

_“Nope. But I wanna do this. Probably be years before I get another chance.”)_

It only took a moment of heat and suction before he got off with a shout.

Afterward, Darcy nestled comfortably into his side. “Nothing like sexual tension to make a person cranky. Thank you. I might make it through this thing without strangling the next asshole I meet.”

He, too, was damned near boneless in his corner of the sofa. He was hoarse when he agreed, “Anytime, doll. Anytime.”

She dozed while he finished watching whatever movie she’d picked.

How many mornings did he wake just to watch the sunrise break over Steven’s face? How many times did he storm off to the training room, leaving Steve in confusion at his sudden rage?

_(He woke, with the dust motes swirling in a ray of sunlight and an arm wrapped around the boy with the golden hair. With a specter’s hand, he traced the lines of Steve’s body, wishing he could touch the translucent skin. He wanted.)_

He curved a finger over the soft skin of Darcy’s cheek, wishing he could see her blue eyes flash to green again.

 

*****

 

“6”

That was the latest in a string of sixes and fives. He’d had a good week with lots of long walks. He’d even gone to the grocery store two towns over. Nobody recognized him with a beard and a hat and that was fine by him.

Steve texted Darcy a selfie and a picture of the ratty little collection of buildings. “Places Stark sends me.”

She sent back a smiley face. _“Nice beard.”_

Late that afternoon, he got another note from her _. “I need to talk. Text is fine. Just need to know if this is a good time/place for you. Nothing earth-shattering, I promise.”_

He settled into the chair in front of the fireplace. “You’ll always have me for that, doll.”

_“What are we?”_

“Friends for certain. Maybe more? I’d like to try.”

_“Whew. Okay. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t reading anything that wasn’t there. I feel the same. …. But you know I have to ask about—a certain person.”_

“Whoa. Wasn’t expecting that but guess I’m glad it’s in the open.” Steve rubbed his forehead trying to think up a good answer. “I’m always going to be in love with Bucky, Darcy. But he doesn’t want me around and I’m learning to live with that. It’s not easy. Maybe that’s not fair to you. But that’s for you to decide, not me.”

_“Mind if I think on that for a bit?”_

“So long as we’re still friends when you’re done thinking, and we can talk about other things while you do.”

_“Thank you. Tell me what you did today.”_

He did. But that night when he crawled in bed, the loneliness about did him in. Darcy was the possibility of the future. Bucky was his past and present and a future he didn’t want to do without. But it wasn’t his call on that either.

“4”

 

*****

 

_Dear Steve,_

_I got your ‘4’ and I want to cry. I am crying. For so many reasons._

_Click here for the sonogram video. We’re having a girl. I wanted to tell you today, especially after you told me that you thought there might be something more between us. _

_I want that more. So much. It’s complicated, and I know it’s all tangled up with Bucky, too._

_Darcy_

 

 

 


	8. August

# 8/August

 

Darcy scooped up a decent bite of her banana split. She’d dragged Bucky out into the steamy heat of summer by virtue that the baby wanted ice cream, and ice cream from the store wasn’t the same as ice cream from an ice cream shop, so Bucky escorted her out of the Tower and down two blocks to get “real” ice cream.

Bucky sucked on the cherry, his eyes half-closed as he savored the flavor.

“Not fair. I’m a million months pregnant and you can’t look like that.”

“Like what?” From the gleam in his eyes, it was obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Like a rent boy.”

He smirked. “Need another go -round to tide you over?”

They’d done that a couple of times before the heat of summer put an end to those desires. “You’d like that.”

“Sure. You wouldn’t?”

She tapped her dish. “Not when given a choice between that and ice cream when it’s eight hundred degrees right now. You’re sexy as fuck, Bucky Barnes, but right now? Ice cream wins.”

“You wouldn’t be hot if you stayed in the tower.”

“You try running around with a hot water bottle strapped to you and see how you like it.”

 

*****

 

Bucky discovered that his lovely not-girlfriend hit the wall at seven months and change. All of her anxieties came spilling out, along with a boat-load of guilt for not telling Steve. She spent four nights running at her place, avoiding him, and he was sure she spent most of it crying.

He enticed her out with the promise of a home-cooked meal, a foot rub, and assurances that she was doing the right thing.

He might have prevaricated on that last one. 

When she fell asleep on the sofa, exhausted from the week, he swiped her phone. Without a single qualm, he read through every last text she and Steve had exchanged since January. It didn’t take him long to figure out what all the numbers meant. Bucky rubbed his chest whenever he saw the low ones. Steve still had a lot of bad days, and that convinced him that Darcy’s decision not to tell Steve about the baby was the right one.  He couldn’t decide if he was disconcerted or relieved to discover they didn’t talk about him either. Except--

 _I’m always going to be in love with Bucky,_ he read. He closed his eyes against the want and regrets.

Choking down the lump in his throat, he pulled a beer out of the ice box and sat at the table, reading backward through the messages again. One thing was for certain, Steve was keen on Darcy.

But Bucky was sure of something else too. For all that the punk was a talented little shit with a pencil, his paintings were goddamned works of art.

What the hell was Steve doing playing soldier when he could do _this_?

 

*****

 

The warm sun and negligible breeze gave Steve a reason to stretch out on the carpet of grass that had sprung up in the short summer. He dozed, woke up with a sunburn, felt like an idiot, and was grateful that it healed in a couple of hours.

“6. Is that possible? It’s beautiful today.” He sent a picture of his reddened face.

_“Ouch. Try aloe. Or, you know, you could just wait a while.”_

“You know me too well.”

_“I do. And I still like you. Small miracles.”_

“How’s your project coming along?”

_“I could answer that about four different ways at the moment. Let’s go with ‘on track’ and leave it at that. How about you?”_

“I think … no, I know I’m better. Don’t know what I want to do yet.”

_“What options are on the table? Because I wasn’t too keen on the last set you had.”_

“You don’t pull punches, do you?”

_“Nope. I like you too much.”_

“I can respect that. A) Stay here until Stark kicks me out. Which has its merits except the cat down the street is the only one who visits and she doesn’t like me very much. I think I’m occupying her favorite chair on the porch.”

_“Since nobody except Stark knows exactly where you are, it’s tough to give people directions. ‘Maine’ isn’t very specific, even if it is a small state.”_

“True. B) Go back to Tower … has you, a plus. Not too sure about the rest. C) Find something else to do.

_“Paint. Your work is gorgeous.”_

“Can I get away with that?”

_“Isn’t that what you were supposed to do in the first place?”_

“Maybe. But things were different back then.”

_“Yeah, and you don’t need the money, so that opens up all sorts of possibilities.”_

“True again. Don’t know if I can handle this much honesty in one conversation.”

_“Wait until you’re giving me ‘8’s and then I’ll tell you how I really feel.”_

“I’ll hold you to that.”

_“Please do. Now go eat something. It’s dinner time.”_

“Yes, ma’am.”

_“ :P “_

“Did you just stick your tongue out at me?”

_“Me? No. Never.”_

“Sure thing, doll.”

 

*****

_Dear Steve,_

_The baby likes ice cream. She kicked me for a solid hour after I ate a banana split._

_I caught Bucky reading our texts, by the way. He’s better. A lot better. I can’t tell you any of that either and keeping all these secrets is so damned hard._

_Your art … fuck, Steve, your art is extraordinary. And you’re sending me snarky texts, so I know you’re getting better._

_I can’t wait to introduce you to our little girl. I only have eight weeks to go. Bucky said you were born more than a month early. I can’t imagine that right now. Your mom must have been amazing. I think about her a lot and wonder. Bucky tells me stories of her and his mom carrying his sisters. I miss my parents and wish I had someone I could ask. So Bucky tells me stories and it makes me feel a little closer to you._

_Darcy_

 

 

 


	9. September

# 9/September

 

Darcy’s baby shower might have set the record book for coolest gifts. Thor’s crib mobile from Asgard vied with Tony’s self-folding stroller for most awesome, but her favorite was the silver star Bucky gave her, engraved, “Sarah’s First Christmas.”

As she surveyed the pile in her living room, she moaned, “How am I going to fit all this stuff in my apartment?”

Bucky pulled at his lip. “What if you set it all up in Steve’s room? You’ll need help those first few weeks. I’d like to do that. After you talk to Steve, you can figure out what else you want to do.”

The other Avengers, plus Jane and Pepper, all discovered an urgent need to clean up the kitchen, though every damned one of them had ears wide open.

“Tony’s said he’d give me a bigger place, more kid-friendly.”

“You want it?”

Darcy laid her hands on her belly, scratching at the inevitable itch, while Bucky waited for her answer. “How is this not weird that I’m even considering your offer?” she wondered aloud.

“Because it feels right, doll. You know you’ll need help. You can count on me to give it. And it will mean something to Steven that you do it this way.”

She picked up a stuffed penguin and threw it at Bucky, who made a clean, one-handed catch. “Load up.”

 

*****

 

Darcy fell asleep on his sofa—as she did most every evening now-- one arm dangling across her belly and her wrist resting on the cushion.

Today had been a nice day, seeing her happy and nervous. All the gifts made the baby coming soon that much more real, he guessed.

He’d figured out a while back that, though Darcy talked a good game, she was pretty damned jumpy about being a single parent. Knowing what Steve’s ma had gone through, he was glad to lend a helping hand. It seemed right to be helping Steve’s kid the same way he’d helped them all those years.

But he wasn’t helping Darcy just for Steve. Nope. Lot of that was pure selfishness because he liked her too much. And if Steve was a fool then Bucky wasn’t going to let her get away.

He sat crossed-legged, pulling tags off clothing and laying them in a pile to be washed, separating toys from their boxes, and loading the baby backpack with the odds and ends Darcy might want in there. He built a pile of ointments on the table and made a stack of diapers on the floor.

Picking up the box with the crib, he carried it into Steve’s room—a room he hadn’t set foot in since January. Steve’s scent still lingered, and it hit him with all the weight of an army tank. He went to his knees, eyes closed, inhaling. A thousand memories danced around in a ring. He didn’t hate Steve. He couldn’t. He dragged himself across the room and crawled up on the bed, where he buried his face in Steve’s pillow.

Darcy found him later, and she sat on the side of the bed where she could put a hand in his hair. “Gees, you’re a mess, Bucky.”

“I am. I’ve got no business tryin’ to help you.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly.” She rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re still a mess over Steve.”

“Don’t know what I’m doing. Got feelings for you and—“ He broke off, unable to complete the sentence.

Darcy did it for him. “You’ve got feelings for him. Of course, you do.”

“Didn’t mean to. Not like that.”

“And I didn’t mean to fall for a couple of ninety-year-old snarky shits from Brooklyn, so there you go.”

He squinted up at her. “Both of us?”

She shrugged. “Hard not to love you, Bucky. If this is how I feel, imagine how Steve feels having known you since you were kids.”

“He doesn’t want me around.”

“Not with the way you were treating him. You broke his heart every single day.”

“He doesn’t need me.”

Darcy leaned down until she was face to face with him. “Is that what this is about? You took care of him when he was little. Now, he’s big and not sick and you’re thinking he doesn’t want to be with you?” She stood up, or rather, eased off the bed and got to her feet. “Real love is based on wanting to be with another person, warts and all, not needing to be with them because you’re incapable of doing life by yourself.”

Rolling to his back, he scooted down until his head was on the pillow. “You can say that?”

She shot him a dirty look. “I can do this thing with the baby without your help, Bucky. Yes, you make it easy, fun and a lot less scary. Which is why I like having you around. Not because I’m incapable of handling all this. You make it … brighter.”

Darcy fingered the crib box leaning against the door. “Steve did life by himself for a couple of years without you. He wasn’t very good at it, but he did it. You made life interesting again for him. He wanted you to get better so that both of you could discover all the new, cool things about the future together.”

Bucky rubbed his face. “I miss him.”

“That’s a start.”

He slept in Steve’s bed that night.  It was the best night’s sleep he’d had since Steve left.

 

*****

 

Steve spent the day driving between the three closest towns. One had a good grocery store, one had a Home Depot and the other yielded a decent arts and crafts store. The cashiers didn’t know him as Steve Rogers, but they recognized him from previous trips and gave him a cheery welcome.

It was the first time he decided he would have liked some company that day. He even picked up a newspaper.

“6. Maybe even a 7.”

_“Go you.”_

“How are you, Darcy? Be honest and don’t dodge the question.”

_“I’m good. This project’s keeping me up at night now, so I’m not sleeping much, but it’s going to pay off here in a few weeks. I could go for a backrub right now.”_

“Ah, not sure how to put this, but Bucky used to be really good at them, if he’s up for that kind of thing.”

_“I’ll ask. Still thinking about him?”_

“Kind of hard not to. Not much else to do.”

_“Just means you’re human. Take a picture of your latest painting, I’m curious.”_

“Nope. You’re going to have to come see this one in person.”

_“Really? You want me to come up there?”_

“Didn’t you say you would be done after Thanksgiving? Come up after that. Or—spend the holidays with me.” Steve pulled on his forehead hair, waiting for her reply.

_“I’d like that. A lot. You’ve got a deal. But you have to have a Christmas tree. I don’t do holidays without a Christmas tree.”_

“Deal.”

 

*****

_Dear Steve,_

_BEST DAY EVER._

_Avengers baby shower? Two million thumbs up. JARVIS recorded the whole thing and yeah, there’s a part in there for you. Click here for the video and here for all the pictures and the list of what our crazy friends came up with._

_Your texts that you want me to come up … I know you’re getting better if you want my company. Christmas. I can’t wait. But, oh, yeah, I have to squeeze a baby out between now and then._

_Oh, please don’t make me think of labor. That scares me. Bruce is making me watch all these videos, and I think I hate him right now. I won’t make you watch those videos. Tony keeps offering awesome knock out drugs that probably aren’t good for the kid._

_Bucky misses you. He told me that today. You aren’t the only one getting better._

_I miss you._

_Darcy._

 

 

 

 


	10. October

# 10/October

 

When the first snowflake drifted downward to land on Steve’s shoe, he gave in. Gave in to nine months of want and need.

For the first three days, he built frames and prepped canvases again.

For the next month, he painted in the daylight and sketched at night. There was love in every stroke of the brush. Anger in the lines of his pencil. He tore those emotions out, examined them and laid them on canvas, sometimes raw and inelegant, other times with all the finesse of a neurosurgeon. 

The first painting started in the Alps and ended with a fall. But Steve didn’t stop there. He painted cheery little pictures of Bucky as a boy, giggling with him at Coney Island, walking to school, and playing kickball in the grass.

He painted a trio of nudes-- before, during and after--every sensual line emblazoned in his photographic brain.

There were dark portraits of thick, swirling paint embodying every nightmarish memory Steve had of the Winter Soldier. It was cathartic, frightening and exhilarating.

He drew Bucky teetering on the edges of Dante’s hell in his old blue uniform.

He painted wry grins, raging tempers, and eyes full of love and lips of promises.

When he was done, he collapsed on the bed for four days straight.

“3”

 

*****

 

When the baby was born, Bucky held Darcy’s hand, rubbed her back, and brought her ice chips. He swore at Banner and the obstetrician when Darcy ran out of words and breath. He walked with her and told her she could do this. He assured her that Steve was going to be the happiest dad in the world.

He sat behind her when she had to push, giving her a warm, solid wall to lean against as he chanted an unending string of encouragement and praise.  She laughed when he turned sheet-white and begged off cutting the cord.

Darcy was sure she’d have to find a way to make ten hours of labor sound a lot more awesome than it was, but she’d survived it and now had a gorgeous baby girl in her arms. The blond-haired, blue-eyed infant looked exactly like an elfin Steve.

“Hello, Sarah Rebecca Rogers. It’s nice to put a face to all those kicks and pokes.” There was a choking sound beside her, and she looked up in time to see Bucky smile without inhibition for the first time in seven decades.

He wore his scrub shirt with tiny inked baby feet on the shoulder proudly and took dozens of pictures.

When it was time for her to feed the Sarah, he wrinkled his forehead. “I remember.” He brought her extra pillows to prop up her and the infant. He set a big cup of water on the table beside her.  She practiced, and when she got frustrated, he found a lactation nurse to help.

He sat on the end of her bed and changed Sarah’s first diaper, cooing and clucking over the baby as he did. He wrapped her up like a burrito and handed her back to Darcy. Then, he leaned in and kissed Darcy with love and just enough heat that she started to cry.

“I’m happy, I promise. I just wish—“

“I know, doll. Soon.”  


 

******

 

Bucky wore a shirt from Steve’s closet, though it wasn’t buttoned as he rested the tiny infant against him. Darcy slept on the bed beside him. The labor had been long enough and she needed her rest. But she’d made Bucky promise that he would hold Sarah and not leave her in the little hospital bassinet.

Sarah didn’t seem to mind the metal hand, though she scrunched up her already-red face until it warmed against her skin.

_(You should have put a bullet in my skull, Rogers. There’s nothing to save.)_

_(I can’t do this. You should have left me alone. They would have killed me and saved you the trouble.)_

_(I hate you for doing this to me. I don’t want to be here. I’d rather be dead.)_

_(I’m not him. Steve, end this for both of us.)_

He leaned down to kiss Sarah’s head as she fussed a little. He shifted his hold on her, and she settled against his bare chest once again. “I love you, baby doll. We’re gonna take care of you. Can’t take care of you if I’m not here, right?”

_(He shivered at the press of the cold barrel against his head, less from the gun and more from the desolation in Steve’s eyes._

_When the Quinjet landed, his childhood friend had slammed him against the wall of the Tower. “I will put this bullet in your brain, right now, Bucky, if you want me to. But you have to know I’m with you to the end of the line. So what’s it going to be, pal?” Steve ground out._

_The price of oblivion was too high._

_At last, Steve pulled the Glock away. Easily, efficiently, he unloaded two bullets and shoved them into Bucky’s hand. “Let me know when you want me to keep my promise.”)_

Bucky pressed his cheek to Sarah’s head and cried.

 

  
*****  
  


_Dear Steve,_

_She’s beautiful. Perfect. Can count to a hundred and knows her ABCs already. Click here for the videos and a zillion pictures. _

_Bucky stayed with me through labor. Really, in case you haven’t figured it out, he’s been with me every step of the way. I’ll leave it to you to figure out why._

_She’s lying on Bucky’s chest. He’s wearing your shirt so she’ll get to know your smell. I guess scent is important to babies, and he’s been worrying about that for weeks._

_Do you remember that book you recorded for the Children’s Library a year or so ago? Bucky downloaded it so our little girl will hear your voice. He played it while I was in labor and he’s already played it twice for her today._

_Bruce tells me it will be safe to take her on a long trip by Christmas. I can’t wait._

_Darcy_

 

 

 


	11. November

# 11/November

 

For Thanksgiving, Steve roasted a turkey, made stuffing and cranberry sauce. He even made a pumpkin pie. As he ate, he wrote a letter.

 

_Dear Bucky,_

_I want to apologize for so much. The list is long at this point, so let me go with a blanket apology for everything that made you angry with me._

_Thing is, Buck, I really don’t know what I would have done differently, even if I’d known this would be the outcome. You are everything to me. I had to try._

_I’d hoped that you would find peace._

_I can admit now that I’d hoped that the love we’ve shared would evolve beyond the possibilities during our youth and the war. It’s time I let go of that hope._

_We’ve changed, perhaps too much. With the lives we’ve had, that part was inevitable. At one time, we were two halves of the same coin. Now, I’d be happy if we could coexist in the same pocket._

_But that doesn’t seem possible. For all that I had good intentions, all I’ve done is muck things up between us. I never meant to cause you more pain. _

_I won’t be coming back. This is your world now, not mine. Take it, and do what you want with it. You owe me nothing. I only ask that you don’t hate me and know that what I did was born of love and love alone. With the hell you lived through, you deserve to know that._

_You deserve whatever happiness you can find now.  If there is none to be had, know that I will keep the promise I’ve made to you. You deserve that too._

_Yours,_

_Steven_

 

*****

 

Bucky read the letter. Read it again. Stumbled into Stark’s lab, stole a bottle of vodka and threw the wadded up paper at the mechanic.

Tony skimmed it with one bleary eye. He frowned at the letter as he straightened it out, and then shook his head and read it again. “When will you admit that you love him just as much?” the mechanic demanded. “Or is this going to be the line you never cross and you spend the rest of your life more miserable than the whole HYDRA debacle?”

Bucky countered, “He belongs to Darcy now.”

“That’s not what that letter says.”

“It’s too late.”

“That’s not what the letter says either.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” Bucky roared, losing the temper he’d learned—fought to learn--to control. 

“It’s Steve finding a way to live without you. It’s a fucking deception that he’s taken almost a year to build. He’s almost there, Barnes. Your chance at salvaging this between you is--” He held up two fingers a centimeter apart. “--this close to being gone.” Tony waved the paper and slapped it against Bucky’s chest. “That’s the last salvo he can fire before the ship goes down.”

“What do I do?” Bucky demanded.

“Do I really have to walk you through the mechanics of boy/boy sex or can you figure that one out on your own?” Tony said acidly.

Bucky shrank backward. “Loving Steve that way would have gotten him killed in our day.”

“Not loving Steve in that way is going to kill him in this day. He might love Darcy. He’ll never leave her because of Sarah. But do you want to take the chance that some part of him will turn bitter at all the might-have-beens, and Darcy will become the obligation she never wanted to be? Because that’s on you, pal.”

Tony shook his head and picked up his wrench. “It’s a fucking miracle you two are alive. Why you both aren’t latching onto that and each other has fried my brain since you came back. Now I understand. It’s because Barnes is afraid of playing grab-ass with his boyfriend,” he said in disgust. “Wake up to the twenty-first century, Barnes. It’s a different world out there.”

 

*****

 

“Hi, baby doll,” Darcy cooed.

Sarah worked on her thumb once she finally got it in her mouth. Then she lost it and squeaked unhappily.

“Well, go find it. I promise it’s not lost.”

With a snuffle, the little girl tried again and discovered it still attached to her hand. She sucked on it, though she didn’t appear too pleased with it.

Darcy stretched out next to Sarah on top of Steve’s bed. She pulled his pillow to her and buried her face in it. It still sort of smelled like him, in a remote, needs-to-be-washed sort of way. (Like that was happening.)

The six weeks she’d been here with Bucky next door had been … kind of cool, actually. Bucky was the freakin’ baby whisperer when it came to getting Sarah down for a nap. And he didn’t seem to mind walking with her in the middle of the night so Darcy could get a few hours of sleep.

He’d been gone twice for missions, and Darcy wasn’t sure who had missed him more. He came home to a kiss from Darcy and a little girl who gummed his shoulder until the two of them fell asleep on the couch. Darcy saved the picture as her new lock screen.

She couldn’t wait to see Steve. Sarah had another round of shots in two weeks before Bruce would clear her for a road trip, but after that, they were free to go. The eight hour drive with an infant already had her nervous, but she needed to make the journey one way or the other and definitely didn’t want to do it in a helicopter, which was Tony’s suggestion.

Steve seemed to be excited, too, given that he texted her daily with ideas for the two weeks she was planning to stay with him. Really though, what could they do with that much snow on the ground? (Besides spending all of it having lots and lots of sex? Boy, was he going to be surprised.)

Not for the first time, Darcy felt her chest tighten with anxiety. In just a few weeks, she was going to have to justify her decisions to the man she would be involved with, one way or the other, for the rest of her life—a man she’d come to love wholeheartedly. Not only that, she and Bucky had to figure out where their relationship was going.

It couldn’t all be about Sarah, could it?

That was Darcy’s biggest fear, that Sarah would be the glue to stick all of them together, and maybe there wasn’t enough of anything else to make it all work.

Sensing her mood, Sarah fussed, her little nose wrinkling. Darcy’s boobs promptly started aching.

She picked up the infant and a pillow, and she moved to the rocking chair. Darcy settled Sarah at her breast and gave the chair a nudge with a foot against the stool. She might have a dozed for a just a moment.

When Bucky came home from wherever he’d been, reeking of vodka, with his knuckles bleeding and his clothes in disarray, he staggered into her doorway, metal hand holding him in place.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him like this. “You look like hell. What happened?”

With shadows on his face and reddened eyes, he handed her a tattered sheet of paper. “Can I go with you?” he asked with quiet desperation.

She read the letter. Conflicting emotions tripped through her: happiness that these two friends might put together something solid between them, fear for Bucky that Steve might reject him, fear for Steve for the same, fear for her own feelings, and a little bit of heartbreak because she might just have to be content to be the friend who watches two fools fall in love.

“Of course. I was hoping you would.”

 

*****

 

_Dear Steve,_

_For today’s pictures, click here. Blame Clint for the outfit. I think she looks like she belongs in tiny baby jail with all those stripes. _

_She slept a whole four hours straight last night. Of course, she made up for that by waking up three more times before morning. I’m jealous that you can get by on five hours. You are soooooo making up for this when I get there._

_Although, I can’t complain much. If the baby doesn’t go right back to sleep after she eats, Bucky takes her, changes her diaper, and walks with her until she does. I hear him telling her stories about the two of you growing up._

_I think he’s worn every shirt you left here. I’m not sure it’s for our little girl anymore._

_He got your letter. It’s the second time I’ve seen him cry._

_Darcy_

 

 

 


	12. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Annnnnd we're done! Thank you for all the magnificent comments, kudos, and outright lurking (I see your hits, I know you're there.) in support of this story. Now, I'll apologize for dragging this out over ten weeks, but it was for a good cause. I just couldn't come up with any better way to "recreate" the pregnancy experience and the time between Sarah's birth and this chapter. The anticipation was part of the story package. 
> 
> Do svidaniya!

# 12/December

 

Bucky made two trips to get everything in the car.  He grumbled about strapping in the car seat while Darcy set the other bags in the SUV they were borrowing from Tony. He’d already loaded the Christmas gifts and the portable crib, leaving room for Darcy’s bags.

Darcy had Sarah in her front pack. She dropped a kiss on that irresistible head as she closed the hatch to the car. Sarah grinned, still gumming on her fist.

“Ready?” Bucky asked when he came out of the backseat of the Land Rover, biting his lip. She wasn’t sure who was more nervous.  There were shadows under his eyes, and she was sure neither of them slept much last night. She nodded, and he took Sarah out of the pack to move her into the car seat.

In the history of car seats, she was certain that none had been more securely installed, not to mention that this one was bulletproof and had more features than the car itself, courtesy of Stark.

Darcy handed Sarah’s duffle bag and the cooler to Bucky. He put those in on the floorboard and shut the car door.  Before she could round the car to the other side, Bucky caught her in a hard hug. 

She dug a fingernail into her thumb to keep from breaking down.  As she did, she leaned into to him, the zipper of his coat cold against her cheek, and one of his hands going into her hair. 

He said, in a quiet, determined voice, “No matter what happens, doll, you have me.  Haven’t told you, but you need to know before we go. I’m not going to make the mistake again of not telling someone how I feel.  I love you, Darcy.” 

Bucky held her until his presence and his words fully registered, and she pulled back to search his face.  “You mean that.”

“I do.  It’s not just for Sarah.”  He leaned in to kiss her lightly on the lips. 

She believed him.  They had built something real between them this past year.  Though she knew his thoughts were never far from Steve, they had left “friends” behind somewhere over the summer.  “You already know I love you.”

“I do.” He fanned the back of his fingers across her cheek.  “You—I feel good when I’m around you.  Took me a while to be sure I wasn’t mistaking my feelings. Talked to the psych doc about it too.  But I can say it now.” Though he still had sadness in his grey eyes, the smile was genuine and for her alone. 

She leaned against him again, as she had so many times this past year, until he brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. “Come on. Let’s see if we can bring Steven around too. I used to be charming, or so they tell me.”

 

 

The eight hour drive took more than ten with all the stops for Sarah and the blowing snow from the storm coming in faster than expected.

She sent texts to update Steve every time they stopped. He thought she was driving alone, and twice he offered for her to find a coffee shop and he would come get her. But she texted back that she was fine (an utter lie, she was nervous as shit).

Darcy kept turning around to peek at Sarah, though she’d fallen asleep a good hour ago. The temperature dropped steadily, and Bucky turned up the heat to keep the cabin warm. She tried not to be too nervous, but every time the navigation dropped out on the phone, she panicked a little.

Bucky didn’t seem to be bothered by the weather.  He drove with steady hands as the sun descended.

“Why are you good at driving in the snow?” she asked.

He flicked a neutral glance at her. “Grew up in Brooklyn. Spent time in Europe and Russia.”

She felt like an idiot. “Oh. Okay. Duh.”

“Hey,” he admonished. “Don’t do that. I don’t talk about it.” She chewed on a thumbnail until Bucky reached out to clasp hands with her. “It’s going to be okay, doll. We’re almost there. Why don’t you call Steven and he can talk us in so we don’t miss any turns.”

She punched in his number, putting Steve on speakerphone.

_“Tell me you’re not stuck in a snowdrift.”_

Darcy glanced over at Bucky, who bit down hard on his lip at hearing Steve’s deep voice for the first time in nearly a year. “I am not stuck in a snowdrift,” she assured him.

_“Thank goodness. Okay, where are you?”_

“At the crossing of ‘driving sucks’ and ‘I hate snow,’” she answered.

_“I know that place well. Any particular landmarks or signs that you can see?”_

“Um, the big white building on the right that looks like a good place to hide zombies?”

_“Darn. You found my secret stash. You’re not far at all. Turn right at the stop sign.”_

“Your town warrants a stop sign?” she asked as Bucky made the turn.

_“Just the one. Turn left at the line of mailboxes.”_

“I see them.”

_“Follow the road until it ends, turn right and go straight up the hill. I’ll have the garage open for you and all the lights on.”_

“Okay.”

_“Settle down, Darcy. You’re almost ho—here. Put the car in first gear to get it up the hill. Got that?”_

She hated that he could sense her nerves over the phone, but at least he would think it was only the weather. “I do.”

Bucky downshifted and the Land Rover navigated the hill with ease. Once he’d parked and the garage door closed behind them, he reached out to cup her cheek. “Ready?”

 “You first,” she reminded him.

“All right, doll.”

 

*****

 

Steve took his first easy breath in two hours. The winter storm had moved in faster than anyone anticipated, though this was just the precursor to the main system that would be here in a few hours. His biggest fear had been Darcy getting lost in the blowing snow, and he’d been relieved when she seemed game to keep driving.

He pulled the garage shut, locking it securely. The driver’s side door opened, and his heart shattered when he saw Bucky step out.

“Darcy—“

Bucky raked his hand through his still-long hair. “She’s in the car. She said I have ten minutes to fix this before she comes in. If I can’t, I’ll take the car and leave her here with you. Stark will send someone to pick her up when she’s ready to come back.”

There was more life and inflection in those words than Steve had heard since he’d brought Bucky home.

He didn’t bother to hide his dismay, though.  “And they call me the man with the plan.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “Tell Darcy to come on inside.  It’s too cold in the garage.”

Bucky did that, and with his hearing, Steve caught Darcy’s admonishment, “Don’t fuck it up.” With a curt nod, Bucky closed the car door to silently follow him into the house.

They made it to the living room before he turned around to face the man he’d loved for most of his life. _This_ was his Bucky.  Knew it by the slow blink of the eyes, the swollen lip from a nervous habit, the tension in the shoulders.  Steve struggled to breathe.  He had no idea what to make of the extraordinary change.

He didn’t realize he’d stepped backward and brought his hands up in an automatic defensive gesture until Bucky pressed the palms of his hands against Steve’s.

With that husky voice Steve still heard his dreams, Bucky pleaded, “Don’t give up on me.” He shook his head, the long hair dancing. “I love you, Steven. I’ve always loved you.” With a twist of his wrist, Bucky held him in place with one hand and ran the other behind his neck.

There wasn’t any hiding this time, and Bucky didn’t taste like cheap scotch when they kissed. This was real, with heat and apologies and everything Steve had ever hoped.

“I told you that before, Steven Grant. I wasn’t lyin’. Promised I would always love you. Didn’t break that promise. Did a lot of things, broke a lot of oaths. Didn’t break that one.”

All sort of emotions ricocheted around Steve, so many that all he could do was hold still and listen. Like water in a parched desert, he soaked up Bucky’s words and touch—even as he feared they would stop, leaving him desperate for more.

Bucky stepped closer, sliding a hand to Steve’s hip, and leaned in so they were forehead to forehead. “Please don’t give up on me, punk. Not now.” Bucky’s hand trembled where it was on the back of Steve’s neck.

Then Bucky stepped backward, hands up in an echo of Steve’s earlier gesture, as he realized Steve wasn’t responding. His face fell as his shoulders and hands dropped to his sides. “I’m too late.”

No, wait. “When … why … damn it, Bucky, why now?” Steve got out.

“Because it took me this long to get the courage up to love you like I should,” he said softly. “Took me months to see that what was wrong wasn’t about you.”

“And now?”

“I’m still fucked up.  But I’m better. I’m trying to be better. Got a lot to fix.” He shook his head a tiny bit. “Don’t want to do it without you.” Bucky jammed his hands in his pockets. “It’s always been you. Used to lie next to you and wish I could touch your skin. When you were sick, you’d let me sleep with you and keep you warm. I remember those two times, Steven, makin’ love to you. I want that. I want you. All of you.”

Just like that, the walls Steve had been trying to put up crumbled away into nothing, though his heart ached something fierce. He eased down onto the arm of the sofa, admitting, “Never been able to stay sore at you, Buck.”

A faint almost-smile and a flicker of self-loathing appeared.  “I know. I’m counting on it.”

But Steve wasn’t going to let him off easy. “I’ve had enough of hiding my feelings.  I won’t do it anymore.”

“You want a ring to make it official?” Bucky didn’t lose eye contact. 

Steve had to be the one to break it off, to turn away in disbelief. “If you had thrown me a damned bone a year ago, I’d say ‘yes.’ But now? I don’t know about this, Bucky. I—I invited Darcy up here to … to see. To see about us,” he admitted. “She’s something special.”

“I know. Know how she feels about you too.”

He snapped his head around, and with newfound confidence, fell into reading Bucky’s expressions with ease. “What are you hiding?”

Firming his lips, Bucky insisted, “You muck this up with her, and I’m in line, you got that?”

Steve swallowed hard and nodded, shocked at the implications.

Bucky walked away, ducking around the corner to tug Darcy into the room. He didn’t miss the solicitous way Bucky put a hand out for Darcy, or that he took her bag as if out of habit. She kept her hands on a wrapped bundle.

Were they a couple?

But as soon as they reached the warmth of the living room, Darcy stepped into Steve’s space and kissed him square on his mouth. “I’ve missed you. More than I’ve let on,” she admitted. With a wry smile, she urged, “Look down.”

He did.

He blinked.

Darcy’s blue-eyed bundle blinked back.

“Take her,” she insisted, not really giving him a choice as she slipped the infant into his arms.

“Her?” he choked out.

“Sarah Rebecca Rogers. It’s time you met your little girl.” Darcy plucked off the purple cap and a shock of blond, fuzzy hair stood straight up.

Without thinking, he automatically turned to Bucky, who had the oddest smile on his face.  “You—“

“Yeah.”

Steve’s knees buckled. He sat hard again on the arm of the sofa, though he didn’t dare let go of his – daughter? There was no mistaking the little girl’s features.  She looked just like his ma. Still, he babbled stupidly. “She’s mine?”

“Yeah, punk. She’s all yours.”

To Darcy, he stuttered, “She’s—you--thank you.” Too much emotion bubbled over, and it all came out in great sobs. Bucky braced him from one side with an arm across his shoulders. Darcy stepped in so that his head rested against her chest, cupping his neck.

They held on, not afraid of his crying or the way he flailed around with one hand to clutch at Darcy’s hip and Bucky’s fingertips.

Then the infant—Sarah--scrunched up her nose in protest at the noise.

Steve laughed a little at her, in between his sniffles, while Darcy wiped tears off his cheeks—and her own. When the noise subsided, Sarah stretched an arm overhead, and he bobbled her a little as she lifted her feet. That prompted a gummy sort of half-smile.

And just like that, his whole world had been upended once again.  Though … maybe this time, it would all be okay. Better than okay.   For the longest time, he simply stared at Sarah.  He had a daughter.  Family. 

He blew out his breath, brought Sarah to his shoulder in a move that seemed natural enough, and got to his feet. He shook his head at Darcy and Bucky, though he wasn’t really angry, just terribly confused. “Seems I’ve missed a few things while I was gone. Somebody want to fill me in on the details?”

They nodded, both of them looking guilty and determined at the same time. Bucky skimmed a practiced eye over Sarah and Darcy. “You want to feed her?” he suggested to Darcy. “Steve and I can get the luggage.”

Steve didn’t figure Sarah could talk yet, but the moment Bucky mentioned eating, she promptly opened her mouth and nuzzled his shirt.

“Can’t help you there, little one.  I suppose your ma can handle that,” he told her. Reluctantly, he passed Sarah back to Darcy.  They headed for the couch, and Bucky handed Darcy a couple of throw pillows and the water bottle from her tote bag.

Darcy hesitated before she sat down, asking Steve, “Is this going to bother you if I feed her here? I can go in the other room.”

He frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous.  She’s hungry. If that spot works for the both of you, that’s all that matters.”

She put the baby to breast without a problem, though Bucky kept a wary eye on both of them until Darcy gave him a little nod.

As they walked to the garage, Steve asked in confusion, “I know what you said earlier, but are you two together?”  He couldn’t remember Bucky ever being friends with a dame.

Bucky bumped him on the shoulder and the familiar touch scattered Steve’s thoughts. “Let’s just say there are a lot of open possibilities right now. The three of us have talking to do. Come on. You can find out firsthand how much crap babies require these days. Some of this shit’s your job now.”  They brought in the luggage, a couple of packages of diapers and the portable crib. “Darcy likes the cloth diapers better, but she wasn’t sure if you’d be up to doing that kind of laundry.”

“We did it at your house. Your mom--” Steve broke off, thinking Bucky would be pissed to find him reminiscing again.

But Bucky’s expression softened with the memory. “Yeah, we did.” He set down the bags and reached over to ruffle Steve’s hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you talk about those things before. It’s nice to hear them.”

Flabbergasted by the change in Bucky, he couldn’t speak until he set the crib on the floor in the living room. He deflected instead of commenting. “I’ve got two beds and a couch. I don’t have any idea who I should put where.”

Darcy volunteered, “Give me the spare bedroom with Sarah since we’ll be up two or three times at night. Bucky—“ She didn’t finish the thought, looking away instead with sadness.

So Steve went to her, kneeling beside her as Sarah nursed with squeaks and grunts. “I can help. I want to help.” He studied her for a moment. “You’re exhausted. And scared.”

She nodded. “I couldn’t sleep last night. You—I thought you’d be angry with me.”

Now that surprised him. “I’m not angry. At all. You know better than anyone where I’ve been and I figure that had a lot to do with it.”

“It had everything to do with it.”

“So, let’s get you some rest and we’ll talk about it in the morning. Does Sarah have to go to bed now too?” he asked, hoping she didn’t.

Darcy grinned through her weariness. “No.” She brought her hand up to touch his cheek.  “You really aren’t upset?”

“Maybe I’m still in shock?” he quipped with a smile. “I’ll put your things upstairs.”

But Darcy touched his shoulder to stop him from getting up. “I didn’t say anything about Bucky either. But he’s different. And he still sleeps better when you’re around.”

“Damn it, Darcy, did you have to tell him that?” Bucky grumped.

She rolled her eyes. “Grumpy Bucky means he wants something and won’t ask. He’s been freakin’ jealous over me sleeping in your bed. I know for a fact he stole one of your pillows.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Why are you sleeping in my bed?”

“Because Grumpy wanted Sarah and I close enough that he could help. It was nice,” she admitted.

For all that Steve wanted explanations, Darcy’s energy flagged enough that Bucky started hovering in that way Steve remembered from when they were young.

“We’ll bring her up when she’s hungry again, doll. That should get you three hours or so,” Bucky told her.  “And there’s a little bit of milk in the cooler if I need to tide her over.”

Sarah decided she was done and craned her head over to look around. Darcy refastened her bra and shirt and passed her off to Bucky. “She’s wet,” she apologized to Steve.  “Didn’t figure I’d spring that on you right off the bat.”   

He tugged her to her feet.  “Appreciate that, ma’am,” he teased.

Darcy gave Steve a small smile. “My job to put it in. You guys can deal with what comes out.”

Steve chuckled. “Been a while since I’ve changed a diaper. I’m guessing we don’t use pins anymore.”

“Velcro or snaps,” Bucky agreed. “Just like our uniforms.”

“When did you change a diaper, Steve?” Darcy asked in surprise.

He jerked a thumb at Bucky. “His little sisters.  We met when he was thirteen. I was twelve.  Rebecca was eight.  I don’t remember how old the little ones were, but they were still in diapers, one and two, maybe.  Mrs. Barnes had no problem handing out babies to be changed.”

Bucky blew softly into Sarah’s face, and she scrunched up her face in protest.  “You want a bath, baby doll?” he cooed. “We can do that.” He leaned Sarah in so Darcy could kiss her goodnight, and he brushed a kiss on Darcy’s cheek too.

Astonished by the easy affection Bucky showed the pair, Steve hid it by picking up the luggage and portable crib Darcy indicated.  He led her up the stairs to the loft. Not wanting to presume too much, he’d freshened the sheets on the bed and draped the paintings he’d stored in there with cloth so they wouldn’t be so startling.

Darcy let him figure out the crib. It took him a minute and a couple of sassy prompts, but he got it set up and she handed him sheets to finish it off.

When they were done, Steve caught her hand. That’s all it took to have her in his arms, where she broke down and cried. “I’m sorry. So sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

Steve sat down on the edge of the bed, holding her while she apologized again and again.  “Shh, Darcy. I get it.” In utter disbelief, she popped her head up.  “I swear, I’m not angry, doll.” He tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped her face dry, and let her blow her nose.  

“Damn it, I promised myself I wouldn’t do that,” she said, embarrassed.

“I’m glad you did.”

“You like having someone’s snot on your shirt?”

But that only made him grin. “Bare minimum, without any pressure, are we friends?” She nodded. “Makes me feel good to hold you up for once. I haven’t done much to give back.”

“You’ve had your hands full,” she insisted.

“I did. And now I don’t.”

She searched his face. “You _are_ better.”

“Yes, I am.  You played a big part of that.”  Still conscious of Bucky downstairs, Steve rubbed his thumb across her cheek, she turned her head to kiss his palm, sending electricity rippling through him. He sucked in his breath. “Wow, yeah, that still does it.”

Flushing, she agreed.  “Ditto.”

He gently nudged her so that she would stand up. He followed, and dove in for a real kiss, with both hands in her hair, to give her the kind of kiss that made her twitch all over.  She hummed, and he felt the vibration all the way down his spine.  “That settles that,” he said with no little satisfaction. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

But Darcy furrowed her brow. “Don’t—don’t shut out Bucky for me. He’s—“

With more confidence, he put a thumb to her lips to caress the bottom one. “I know. I’m beginning to understand. We’ve got a couple of weeks to figure this out, right?”

“As long as you want, really,” she admitted.  Though she was tired, her eyes lit up with mischief. “I brought my project with me.”

He grinned.  “Even better. If I bring Sarah to you later, will that bother you?”

“No. She’ll usually sleep next to me for a while. I’ll put her in her bed if she gets twitchy.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a tablet. With a few quick jabs of her finger, she opened a screen and handed it to him. “It’s been a big year. I tried to write it all down.”

Touched by her thoughtfulness, Steve leaned in for one more kiss. “See? Another reason why I’m not mad.” He cupped her head and leaned in for another long hug.  Darcy melted against him, sighing out the last of her worry.  “I’m glad you’re here,” he told her.

“So am I.”

He descended the stairs to find Bucky setting up a bath in front of the fireplace, using a couple of towels he must have found in Steve’s bathroom. There was a pot of water warming on the stove in the kitchen, and Bucky set Sarah on the towels while he made his preparations. She rolled on her side to chew on the fabric, squeaking as she did.

Without preamble, Bucky offered, “Stark doesn’t have any real fireplaces in the apartments. I’m always worried about a draft. This is good.”

Steve sat on the floor next to Bucky and gave Sarah his finger to play with. She clutched it and promptly shoved it in her mouth to gum. “Thank you, Buck. For taking care of them.”

“Wasn’t entirely for you, punk. Darcy’s something special and Sarah’s--” Bucky’s shoulders tensed as he laid out a tiny washcloth, a plastic bag, baby soap, lotion, powder, a clean diaper, a little purple dot, and a fresh outfit from the purple duffle bag.

“Sarah is what? And do you really need all that stuff?”

“Yes. Do you remember what did you used to say about us having kids?” Bucky asked.

“I figured you would be the one to have them, but that’s okay because they would be mine anyway,” he recited. Something in the vicinity of his heart thumped hard. “Oh. You feel that way about Sarah.”

“She’s yours. That makes her mine too.” Bucky carefully kept his face turned down so he couldn’t see Steve. Instead, he reached for Sarah and began working her out of her clothes. She waved arms and legs as he did. He leaned in to tickle her feet and she chortled.

Sliding his hand under her head, he picked up the purple dot, a rubber cushion of some kind, and worked it into Sarah’s left ear. She protested, but Bucky was quick and tucked in place.

“What’s that for?” he asked, when Bucky didn’t repeat the movement on the right side.

“She’s like you were, Steve, she’s deaf in that ear. Stark made her a little hearing aid, so she can hear just fine. It can get damp, but this is to be on the safe side. When she’s older, she can have a permanent implant.”

His heart contracted so hard it hurt. “Is there anything else?”

“No.” Bucky looked over his shoulder, his dark lashes lifting as he shot Steve a reassuring look. “I nagged Banner until we were certain. We won’t know about the color vision thing until she’s a year or so, but that’s less common for girls anyway.” He indicated with his chin. “Go get the water out of the kitchen. Make sure it’s good and warm.”

Steve brought back the pot to set on the hearth. Bucky peeled back Sarah’s diaper, wiped her clean, and then set her on the towels. She jerked her arms and legs about in naked happiness.

He was a little fascinated by the way Bucky did the whole diaper thing with just one hand and told him so.

“I’m not cleaning baby shit out of my plates, Rogers.”

Chucking a little, he asked, “Can I help?”

“Wondered how long you were going to hold out.” Bucky held out the washcloth and scooted the towel and baby toward him. “Have at it.”

Sarah liked the warm water as he wiped her down with the little cloth dipped into the pot. She wiggled and gabbled out sounds. Bucky showed him how to turn her over onto his forearm so he could wash her back. They washed her wispy hair and dried that too.

“Rinse her off a little and I’ll move the towel.” He did and Bucky plucked the first towel out of the way so Steve could set her on the drier one underneath. Bucky handed him the lotion. “Rub that in and powder anything delicate.”

Bucky showed him how the diapers worked and handed him the pajamas. With all of Sarah’s flailing, Steve had to rebutton the outfit three times before he got it straight.

“My uniform isn’t this hard,” he complained good-naturedly.

“No, but your ass sure does look good in it.” Bucky reached out to play with Sarah’s hand. “You should try doing the buttons in the dark after a diaper change and you don’t want to wake her or Darcy.”

“Isn’t that what night vision goggles are for?” Steve quipped. To his amazement, Bucky turned a dark shade of red and cleaned up the mess in a hurry, standing abruptly. Steve reached out and caught his ankle with a laugh. “You didn’t.”

“Just the once,” he grumbled.

But Steve had seen that look too many times. “Nuh uh, try that again.”

“I keep ‘em handy, okay?”

Steve lifted Sarah to his shoulder and laughed until his stomach hurt at the image of Bucky Barnes wearing the Winter Soldier’s goggles to change a diaper in the dark. Sarah clutched his shirt and grinned right along with him.

Bucky’s mouth dropped open a little as he took a good look at them together. “Christ, she looks just like you, punk. She’s beautiful.” Steve still had his ankle, laughing like a loon, and Bucky had to shake him off. “Where do you want me to put these?” He held up the damp towels.

Gasping for breath, he waved toward the back of the house. “Set it all in the kitchen. I’ll clean it up later.”

Steve moved up to the middle of couch with Sarah, not really thinking about where Bucky would sit when he returned.  So when Bucky took his right side, (what used to be his “good” ear), sitting so that their shoulders tight like they used to do so long ago, he sucked in his breath at the contact. The metal of Bucky’s arm reminded Steve that this was the present, grounding him to the _here and now_ in a way he didn’t quite understand.

After the long car ride and bath, Sarah was wide awake. She reached, grabbing at whatever part of Bucky’s face she could reach. He blew her kisses and rubbed his nose on her cheek.

In two years, Bucky hadn’t initiated any tactile contact, much less sat with him thigh to thigh. They’d shared a bed in those early days of when Bucky had come back, as Steve tried to help him with the nightmares. But that had been of the things they’d fought about—and Bucky had ended the practice abruptly without explanation, leaving Steve feeling ashamed. After that, Steve had been careful not to touch his old friend.

“You used to play like that with your sisters,” he managed to get out. 

“I did. Did Darcy give you her tablet?” Bucky pretended nonchalance, but Steve caught the note of wariness and the way he tried to not lean too hard against Steve with his metal arm.

“Yes.” He shifted his grip on Sarah as she leaned. “Relax, jerk. Your arm doesn’t bother me any more than it does the baby. Never did.” That earned him a startled look and a slow release of tension as Bucky settled against him. 

“The tablet. You, ah, you should take a look at it.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.” Bucky plucked the baby out of Steve’s hands with practiced ease. “I’ll entertain this little darling while you catch up.”

Trying not to be petulant, he said, “You act like you haven’t seen her in a week.”

Bucky laid her in his lap so that her tiny feet were propped up against his stomach. She wrapped her hands around his index finger, and he tugged her into a sitting position that way.  She grinned, he grinned, and he let her back down to do it again.  “I keep her in the mornings while Darcy works and bring her around when she gets hungry. We were in the car all day and I didn’t get to do much with her.”

Steve studied his old friend, understanding that he adored the little girl.  Far from it being awkward, it seemed natural and easy. He figured out something else too.  “You named her.”

“Think Darcy would have thought up ‘Sarah Rebecca’ all on her own?” Bucky snorted.

“Probably not.”  Testing the waters a little, Steve prodded, “What if Darcy hadn’t been pregnant?”

Bucky flinched hard, his face paling.  “Don’t go there, Steven. It happened. It’s for the _best_.”

Steve pulled the tablet into his lap, and sat for a minute, scratching his forehead. Utterly confused, he flicked open the screen. Before he turned to the first page though, he asked, “Have you read this?”

“Yeah. It’s … she’s—“ Bucky looked toward him and, without quite meeting Steve’s eyes, offered, “It’s honest. She’s a real stand-up lady.”  From him, that was high praise. 

Steve reached out to Sarah and caressed her head.   Then he settled against Bucky’s shoulder and began to read.

_Dear Steve, It looks like we’re going to have a baby …._

Two hours, several videos, and several hundred pictures later, Steve finished, though he was certain he would read it all again later. He scrubbed at his face and looked over at Bucky.

His friend—best friend—hadn’t moved except to prop his feet up on the ottoman.  They were still pressed together at shoulder, hip and thigh, just like they used to do. Bucky had fallen asleep with Sarah cradled in his left arm. She slept open-mouthed and with eyes jammed shut, her hand flexing occasionally against the metal and not minding it at all.

He understood why Darcy had waited to tell him about Sarah.  She hadn’t taken the decision lightly, and throughout the months, he’d read of her struggle to hold to it. But he’d also traced how close Darcy and Bucky had become.  It was clear the journal was something of a diary, too, a place where she laid out her feelings for Steve and confided how Bucky was healing—all the things she wanted to tell him and couldn’t.

When he’d left the Tower, he thought Bucky would be only steps behind. Instead, his old friend had stayed in the Steve’s circle, fought in Steve’s place, lived in their apartment, and did his best to take care of Darcy and Sarah.  Somewhere in there, Bucky had found a way to let go of the awful rage he’d had. 

Steve thumbed back through the pictures. He realized now that Bucky had taken a fair number of these photos, and seemed to have a knack for picking out things Steve would want to see. Those art classes Bucky had taken with him long ago seemed to be paying off in photography. He set the tablet down. 

He couldn’t resist. Carefully, he eased Sarah out of Bucky’s grasp and put her on his own chest, copying the way Bucky had held her. She huffed out her annoyance but didn’t bother waking up when he moved so that he rested against one end of the couch.

He reached out and turned off the lamp behind his head, leaving the room lit only by the soft glow of the dying fire. Bucky rearranged himself so that he stretched out beside Steve, though with his head at the opposite end, with one hand draped over Steve’s leg.

In this moment, the only thing that could make Steve happier would be to have Darcy curled up with them.  Tomorrow, he would get answers.  For now, this was close to perfect.  With the lightest of touches, he pressed a kiss on his daughter's forehead. 

The journal made him sad to see what he’d missed.  He would have loved to have seen Darcy through the pregnancy.  But he'd long known that a soldier sometimes misses the important things, and it was best not to dwell on them too much.  Given the changes in Bucky—and himself-- perhaps missing all that was worth that price. 

"Stop thinkin' and go to sleep, punk, or you'll wake her up," Bucky muttered, caressing Steve's knee. 

He fell asleep listening to Bucky’s breathing and his daughter’s heartbeat.

 

 

Sarah woke him sometime later with irritated noises as she tried to mouth his shirt.

“Take her to Darcy,” Bucky told him in a sleepy voice. “I’m gonna move to your bed.”

So he did. Darcy unbuttoned her pajama top, and Sarah latched on easily, neither of them fully awake. Steve sat on the edge of the bed. Even in the dim light, Darcy’s beauty stood out, her dark hair spilling over her neck and shoulders. He smiled at the little sounds Sarah made as she ate, her tiny fingers digging into the Darcy’s skin. Darcy’s hand drifted up to cover his, and he leaned over to kiss her. He stretched out beside her, one hand on her hip, protective of his new family.

He woke once in the night with the urgent need to do a perimeter check and to take care of a little business.  Satisfied that they were as safe as he could make them, he laid down on top of the covers, though this time, Sarah was safely sandwiched between him and Darcy.

Darcy entwined her fingers with his, and he slept soundly.

When morning light streamed in, bouncing off the snow outside so that the wood on the walls inside shone with warm gold, Sarah woke, hungry again.  Darcy kept her eyes closed while she nursed the baby, but it was apparent the little one was awake and ready to roll the moment she was full. 

Sarah tried to babble and eat at the same time, and Steve was charmed by her attempt. Darcy didn’t find it so funny and tapped her on the cheek to get her to finish up. 

He could smell the coffee and heard the soft footfalls coming up the stairs.  Since there wasn’t a door, Bucky rapped lightly on the wall with his toe.

“Come on in,” Steve called softly.  As Bucky stepped inside, Steve was sure the purpose of the two mugs of coffee was to hide his friend’s nerves.  Steve sat up, wrinkling his nose at the jeans he’d slept in last night. 

“Good morning,” Darcy murmured.  She pried her eyes open.  “Not fair. You two look like the cover of GQ.”

Steve ran his hand through his hair, sure it was standing up.  “He does anyway. No one has any right to be that handsome in the mornings.” Taking the proffered cup, he asked Buck, “How did you sleep?”

Bucky flushed and licked his lips.  “Good.” 

Darcy winked at Steve. “He was in your bed.”  She sat up and passed Sarah to Steve.

Bucky handed her the other cup before retreating to the doorway.  “I, uh, I’m taking the car and heading back. To New York.”

Darcy started out of the bed, but Steve set his hand on her back to stop her. “Good luck with that," he told his friend.

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky asked, “What—what’d you do?”

“Pulled the distributor caps off both cars and took the spark plugs out of the snowmobile after you went to bed. You won’t find them.”

Admiration and pure relief passed over Bucky’s face.  “Why did you do that?”

Hunching over Sarah, Steve admitted, “Didn’t want you to leave before I could convince you to stay."

Bucky looked away.  "You two need time to figure things out."

Steve and Darcy exchanged a look.  Reading her message, he shook his head.  "No, I don't think so.  The three of us have to figure this out because we have a baby now, and none of us are stepping out of the picture.”

"You can't forgive me just like that, Steve. I--I hurt you.”

"You’re right. And we're going to have it out after breakfast.  There's a pretty good little trail out back where we can yell and no one will give a damn.  But when we come back, it's going to be done.  You've done right by Sarah, and that makes up for damned near all of it."

"Not everything."

Steve looked away, his hand tightening protectively on his daughter. "No. Not everything."

Darcy pushed her tangled hair out of the way.  "While you two moon over each other, I'm going to take a shower.  I seriously need some breakfast, because I'm still eating for two." 

"Use my shower. It's bigger," Steve told her.  For some reason, it was easy to lean in and kiss her right on the lips, even in front of Bucky. 

Breakfast was surprisingly fun.  Steve, eager to catch up on everything he’d missed, peppered Bucky and Darcy with questions about the Avengers and the rest of the world.  They, in turn, asked him about living in Maine and couldn’t wait to see his paintings, though he wasn’t quite ready to show them off.

Afterward, the two men walked into the woods, far enough away to not be heard beyond their footsteps crunching through the snow.  They reached a grove of trees, where one had fallen and made a handy place to sit.  Steve propped a foot on it, waiting. 

Bucky reached behind him and came out with Steve’s Glock.   He loaded two bullets into it from his pocket and aimed at a tree some two hundred yards away.  He fired twice then set the weapon between them on the fallen log. “I will _never_ hold you to that promise, Steven, and I will be grateful every day that you were strong enough not to give in to me. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”  He scrubbed at his face, turning away in shame.

It had taken Steve months to work through the hurt to find the anger and even more time to work through that too.  Now, he was tired of wallowing in it and confessed, “I don’t want an apology. I just want you to not hate me so fucking much.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, still not quite looking at Steve.  “I don’t … I don’t hate you. At all.”

Steve had a thousand questions—but was too afraid to ask them for fear of messing up the delicate truce.  Instead, he offered, “Maybe my leaving was the best thing for you. Seems like the whole thing is a better fit for you than me.”

“Yeah, I’m good at killin’ people,” came the acid rejoinder.

“That’s not what I mean, Buck, and you know it,” he snapped.

Bucky’s head popped up. “You think that I don’t know I’m livin’ a life I don’t deserve? Your house, your job, your family. It’s not mine. I owed you not to fuck it all up.”

Anger flashed, and Steve came off the log to shove Bucky hard enough to send him backward several feet. “When, in the last century, did you decide you weren’t my family? Christ, Bucky, when I had _nothing_ , I had you.” He sat down heavily on the tree, his head in his hands.  “I thought—I thought you felt the same.” 

Silence reigned until a whisper in the glade turned into snowflakes. 

“Wanted my hands on you. Then. Now,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve needed every bit of self-discipline not to tremble at Bucky’s words.   “Are you telling me that this shit was because you couldn’t admit you _like_ me?”

Bucky actually scuffed his boot on the snow, looking for all the world like he was about ten years old. “Some. Yeah. Maybe.”

“And now?”

“Stark told me to get my shit together. Darcy’s been callin’ me on it for months. Just—so damned hard to believe it’s okay now.” 

Steve closed his eyes, the ache in his heart coming back with a vengeance.  “You _knew_ how I felt about you. You’ve always known, because I _never_ hid it from you.  You wanted to fuck? We fucked. You wanted to pretend it didn’t happen? We pretended. You wanted to be best friends, that’s what we did. I finally take control of my life without you, fall for someone else, and now you want us to be together?” he demanded.

Bucky shook his head. “What I want doesn’t matter. I want you to be happy, punk.  You need to know that you weren’t wrong. About any of it. You never were.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Shit. He could still read Bucky’s tells like a book. “Gimme the rest of it.” 

“Damn it, Rogers.  Can’t hide _nothin’_ from you.”

“Never worked for me either, _Barnes_. Spill.” 

To Steve’s surprise, Bucky crossed the clearing to stand in front of him. “I went from being controlled by HYDRA to living with you. Every memory, every feeling I had told me to trust you, to do what you said, to believe you.  And I was scared. So goddamned terrified of giving anyone that much power over me again.”

Steve could have caught flies with his open mouth. He snapped it shut, wrapping his arms around himself as nausea rose.  He understood with startling clarity, and his heart contracted with pain. “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean—“

“I know.” Bucky winced as he recalled, “Wasn’t ‘til that day … _that_ day … that I realized I had that much power over you too.” He eased down next to Steve, shoulders touching.  “You fought for me. Made me come back.  Darcy finished the job when I drove you away.  Your little girl made me realize what you had been trying to get me to see all along.” 

“What is that?”

“We aren’t done living yet.”

Steve unwound enough to toy with his own fingers, the nausea easing up some.  “If it makes you feel better, I’m not sure I understood that myself until a few months ago.”

“Maybe it does.” Bucky laid his hand on top of Steve’s.  “Darcy told me something. That real love is not about needing to be with someone because you can’t do life without them.  It’s about wanting to be with them because they make everything brighter.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not sick. Don’t really need me on to watch your back.  Couldn’t figure out why you kept me around.” 

Steve stood up, hanging on to Bucky’s hand.  “Come with me. I need to show you something.”

They went back to the cabin, where Darcy sat on the floor, playing with Sarah. “I need ten minutes,” he told Bucky. “Then come up to the loft.” 

 

 

*****

 

 

Bucky climbed the narrow staircase again to the third floor where Darcy had slept, tucked into the top of the “A” of the cabin.

When he stepped through the door, he discovered the bedroom crammed with twenty or so paintings lined up on the floor and spread out on the bed to lean against the pillows. The largest was waist-high.  The smallest was an intricate piece that fit into the palm of his hand.

He was staggered.  Artwork like this belonged in a museum, not stashed away in a cabin in Maine.   

As if someone took a hammer to a mirror, the reflected images showed something different, and yet, they all added up to James Buchanan Barnes.  He knelt on the floor to study the one that surprised him the most--himself, in the nude, metal arm and all, sipping coffee as he threw Steve a look of amused annoyance.

He remembered that day.  It had been one of the few that they hadn’t fought about something. Steve had cracked a joke, and Bucky had been caught off-guard by the need to laugh. The sensuality of the lines, even in the metal, startled him. 

Steve stood beside the bed, hands in pockets. “I’ve always known who you are, Buck. All these parts of you. I did need you when we were younger.  Maybe it was good thing we weren’t—together. Back then.” He rubbed his forehead.  “When Erskine offered me the serum, it was a chance for me not to be not to be sick. I couldn’t make it on my own, and you and I both knew it.  I hated being dependent on you. I just—I just wanted to be _with_ you.  You make it brighter. You always have.”

He stepped up to the railing, looking down.  “So does Darcy.”

Bucky followed in time to see her turn her face up to smile at them, her dark hair tucked behind her ear. 

Jesus fuck, the punk destroyed him every single time.  Bucky had zero defenses against Steve’s innate honesty. His temper rose. “You’re the least fucking dependent person I’ve ever fucking met and the most fucking stubborn.  You drove yourself until you fucking fell over, and then, _maybe_ you would let me give you fucking hand. And don’t fuckin’ argue with me on this one because I know what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about.”

“James Buchanan Barnes!” Darcy admonished from two floors below. “What did I say about talking Brooklyn around the baby?” 

He sighed, realizing he’d shouted that last part, and ran a hand through his hair.  “Sorry, doll,” he called down to her. Then he put his hand on Steve’s shoulder.  “ ‘m sorry. Shouldn’t have yelled.” 

 Steve blinked, then got a slow grin that did all sort of things inside Bucky that were inappropriate at the moment.  “You’re in love with Darcy,” he decided.

Bucky shrugged, unwilling to acknowledge the truth of that when he was still trying to figure things out with Steven.

But the punk turned him around and nearly shoved him down the stairs.  He threw back a couple of choice curse words under his breath, and was rewarded with a snicker and a hand on his shoulder as they descended. 

Darcy had that hopeful-don’t-give-me-any-bullshit look. He knelt down next to her and scooped up Sarah out of habit. 

It was impossible to miss the way Steve jammed his fingertips in his pockets, doing his best to hide his disappointment.  Reluctantly, Bucky tilted Sarah backward toward Steve, and shifted her deftly. It took Steve a few minutes to work out how to hold the squirmy little girl, but he managed.

His heart ached because Sarah didn’t belong to him. 

He backed his way out of the living room, but Steve caught him by the hand, stopping him with a blunt question.  “Where do you two stand with each other? Are you dating? Sleeping together? Because both of you are comfortable with each other in a way I haven’t seen with anyone else and I sure don’t want to step on any toes here.”

Aw, hell.  “We’ve kissed,” Bucky admitted. “I’ve taken her places.”

Still sitting cross-legged on the floor, Darcy played with the soft toy in her hand, a thing with floppy legs and a rattle that Sarah adored.  “We’ve done more than kiss but haven’t shared a bed either for sex or for sleeping--although I’ve probably napped on him for half my pregnancy. Ever heard of friends with benefits?”

 “Just friends?” Steve asked, considering.

“Hell, no,” Bucky protested. Shit. That was a mistake.  Punk latched on to that bit of information like a terrier. 

“So let me get this straight,” Steve bounced Sarah in his arms as he rocked from foot to foot.  “You both came here, knowing that you each have feelings for me. And that you have feelings for each other?” 

He nodded, as did Darcy. 

“What were you two hoping?” Steve pointed to Darcy. “Ladies first.”

“I want us to find a way to keep being friends so we can be good parents to Sarah.  If that means you and Bucky work things out, I’m going to be really happy for both of you because you two deserve that happiness.” 

“That’s what you will settle for. What do you want?” he asked gently.

When Darcy’s gaze dropped to her lap, Bucky realized that Steve still knew her better than he did--zeroing in her insecurity and calling her on it. 

“Both of you.  I can’t imagine a future without both of you in it.” Her eyes glossed over, and she blinked furiously to clear them.

“Which is why you wanted to see if Bucky and I could kiss and make up first,” Steve noted.

“Have you?” she demanded.

Bucky stilled, afraid to hear the answer. Steve scratched the back of his neck, slanting a challenging look his direction.  “Don’t know.  First kiss caught me off guard.  Might need another one to check if it was real.”

Bucky plucked Sarah out of Steve’s arms, passed her off to Darcy, and then had his lips on Steve’s a moment later. This time, the punk kissed him too. Hard, hungry.  With one hand digging into his hip and the other pressing on his spine, holding him in place. 

 _This_ was the real homecoming, nearly three years after Steve had found him and brought him back from hell.   And yet—

Bucky broke off the kiss. “It’s gotta be both of you, punk.  I love you.  Don’t think I could stand to give up either of you—any of you.  I love Darcy.  I love Sarah.”

Steve chided, “Is this—thing for me and Darcy—is this really about Sarah?  Because I won’t take her away from you. That’s a promise.”  But even as Steve needled him for details, he cupped the back of Bucky’s neck and stroked along his jaw with a thumb.  The action was ridiculously comforting. 

“It’s all of us.  You, me, Darcy, the baby.  Feels right.  Like all the pieces are here.”

Darcy settled Sarah into her bouncy seat and strapped her in.  While the infant babbled at the soft music and chewed on a stuffed giraffe, Darcy joined them, saying, “It’s your call, Steve.  You know where we stand.” 

Steve rubbed his forehead again. “You know, of all the things I’d been hoping for this visit, this is better than my wildest dreams.”  He wrapped an arm around Darcy and one around Bucky.  “I want to try.” 

 

*****

 

Darcy’s promised Christmas tree twinkled with white lights and dozens of hand-painted snowflakes.  A single silver star sparkled in the middle.  Wrapped presents filled in under the branches, most of them with tags that read “Sarah,” though there were plenty of others to go around. 

The three of them had shared a bed last night, well, as much as they could, considering the circumstances.  The two men seemed to appreciate her soft curves as much as the hardened muscles of each other.  They worked around her tender breasts, took their time getting to know her body, and had the patience when she insisted they go slow.  Nobody argued when she introduced them to Stark-created condoms.  She had her fingers crossed that those and her new IUD would keep her from getting pregnant again.  She wasn’t really betting on it though, and from the twin gleams she got when they talked over birth control, neither were Steve and Bucky.  It was scary how much she didn’t mind the thought. 

That first walk outside wasn’t the only one Bucky and Steve needed to take to work things out between them. But each time they came back, they were lighter and laughed more. 

Bucky still had an easier time being affectionate to Darcy than to Steve, but he _was_ trying.  Steve soaked up the loving touches, his eyes glowing every time someone kissed or hugged him.  As for Darcy, she still couldn’t quite believe things were working out they way they were. 

But it was real.  She’d seen Steve’s paintings, and Bucky wasn’t the only one featured in them.  Darcy had appeared in quite a few more than she’d expected.  Steve had shown an unexpected shyness when he’d revealed the scope of his works to her.  The snapshots on her cell phone didn’t hold a candle to seeing them in person.  Steve had _talent_.

They had gone for their own walk where Steve told her he loved her, that he’d thought about her in that way even before he’d left, but knew he wasn’t in a place back then to treat her with the care she deserved. 

Later that night, she’d been curled up with Bucky under a blanket while Steve burped Sarah, and Bucky whispered his own words of love to her again.   That led to a make-out session, and Steve giving Bucky advice until the latter flipped off the former behind her back. 

Oh my, she was spoiled now.  Steve’s sly flirtations coupled with Bucky’s bold confidence did all sorts of things to her.  Their wicked repartee born of a long association kept her in stitches.

The three of them still had so much to work out, but they took it slow and kept it honest.  It helped that they were enchanted by Sarah, and she’d taken to Steve without issue.  

For now, Darcy was sprawled out on the floor in front of the fireplace, wearing her pajamas and fuzzy socks, mesmerized by the lights and warm fire.  She’d finished nursing Sarah, and Bucky had carried her upstairs to the crib they’d moved into Steve’s bedroom.  Steve finished cleaning the kitchen and brought out hot apple cider for the three of them. 

He passed her a cup as he sat beside her and another to Bucky as he joined them.  Bucky took the other side of the sofa, propping his feet across Darcy and Steve as he sat against the arm.  

“Is Sarah asleep?”  Steve asked him. 

“Yeah, she’s out for a while.” 

“Good.”

“What’s on your mind, punk?”

“I want to talk about what happens next.”

Darcy raised her eyebrows.  “Next?” 

Steve covered her fingers, kissing the tips lightly.  “When we go home.”  The light in Steve’s eyes turned into an astonished smile on Bucky’s face. 

She wrapped her other hand around Bucky’s ankle.   “Yeah, we can talk about that.”

When she peeked at her cell phone later that night, she found a single text from Steve. 

_“10.”_

 

*****

 

_Dear Sarah,_

_Last year was a big year.  You were born. Another time, I’ll tell you the story of how your parents came to be.  For now, I’ll only say you that you are loved.  So loved._

_Today, you are a whole year old. Click here for pictures of the party your godparents held for you. Thor and Jane adore you, and in a couple of months, you won't be the only short Avenger running around the Tower._

_You are very, very special because you have three parents. Not every kid gets that lucky. And you’re the first kid (though you might not be the last) to have Captain America and the Winter Soldier as your Da and Papa.  You’ll think it’s cool, then you’ll be embarrassed, and then you’ll be so proud it’s embarrassing. But that’s later._

_Our apartments are all packed up and we’re moving into our new home tomorrow.  Your Uncle Tony has been rearranging the Tower again.Da and Papa had to speak with him very firmly about the décor in your bedroom.   Click here for pictures of the before and after._

_You’re going to have an interesting life, I promise._

_Love,_

_Mom_

 

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover for "One Year" by SteeleHoltingOn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218171) by [Lovesfic (me23)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/me23/pseuds/Lovesfic)




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